


How to win friends and make a team

by Panatlantic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oblivious Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 53,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16291919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panatlantic/pseuds/Panatlantic
Summary: There's just something about Steve... (don't be put off by the ridiculous number of chapters, they are super short)





	1. Chapter 1

So. Steve liked to read. Many humans did. Books, mission files, newspapers, e-books… nothing was sacred (or apparently classified as it turned out Steve had surprisingly high clearance at SHIELD – especially when he was wearing the Captain America suit (something his super-soldier serum enhanced brain had logged and noted but never really thought about… maybe it had something to do with military clearance, maybe (more likely) it had something to do with the hip and crotch line that Tony had so very carefully drafted… so many fittings had been needed that day but Tony had been happy to do the job himself (such a martyr)). Either way Steve had been able to walk into the SHIELD archives and spent a few days down there reading before anyone had thought to complain to Fury that every vending machine in the building was empty, that the large number of UBEReats deliveries might attract attention and that every staff member that didn’t rank an X on the Kinsey was spending an unusual amount of time visiting the archives.

However all good things must come to an end and Steve decided it was time to go. He hadn’t really been keeping track of time but if the stack of empty pizza boxes was anything to go by he’d been here a while. When they delivered their food offerings (so thoughtful!) the increasingly brave SHIELD agents had evolved from casual touching to hair sniffing - which he presumed was just the modern way of hinting he needed a shower. Regardless he had a meeting in a few hours and needed to get back to the tower. 

Steve’s’ timing was superb allowing him to avoid confrontation with Fury who arrived in time to catch Coulson and Carter arguing over who would get to sit in Steve’s still warm seat. Fury didn’t bother to ask himself the obvious questions like ‘why do we even have paper copies of our files?’ (Jarvis) or ‘why would trained agents bring food into an archive?’ (he had a theory about super-serum pheromones), he just sat in the vacated chair, and being the smart ass he was judged from the residual warmth that Steve had left less than 10 minutes ago (this was not the simple calculation many would believe as Rogers had a higher body temperature than normal due to his serum enhanced metabolism – luckily Fury regularly practiced sitting in Steve’s seat as soon as he left a room for just such a contingency) – a butt wriggle got it down to 9.52 with an acceptable 0.5s margin of error, because variables).

Ignoring the pained expressions of Coulson and Carter, Fury proceeded to demand which files Rogers had accessed. Later that day Romanov and Barton may or may not have been alerted to a potential security breach regarding personal information at SHIELD. Maybe not. We will never know because SHIELD has pretty serious security against people that don’t look good in tight pants.

.~.~.

Steve was the man with a plan… and a team full of… individuals… with special abilities… and. Strong Personalities (well Steve had always been told if you didn’t have anything nice to say don’t say anything at all, so his line of thought here was struggling). If he was going to bring this team together he needed as much information as he could get. Between what he had gathered at SHIELD and JARVIS being super obliging (something to do with an offhand comment from Tony telling JARVIS to give Steve anything he wanted last time he was getting fitted for gear that JARVIS had taken to mean giving Steve security access to all of the STARK database, keeping the kitchen stocked with animal crackers and playing the sound track from Troubleman every time Steve used a STARK elevator – something Steve was still oblivious to having never seen the movie). 

Steve had had some experience keeping teams together in the past, but truth be told those groups generally involved chorus girls or the howling commandoes. – Surprisingly a very similar management style worked for both. Steve wasn’t sure the same approach would necessarily work with the current avengers, mostly because he couldn’t see Tony happily following orders in return for booze and pantyhose (perhaps an oversight, as this approach definitely would have achieved results one way or another). Instead Steve did what Steve did best and went for sincerity. And self-depreciation. Obviously he was at fault for failing to win them over. 

Thus began Steve’s newest project.


	2. group dinner

Steve had noticed people tended to avoid him. Oh sure they would come up to him, and present food – but this was not a new experience for Steve, even before the serum people had taken great pains to get Steve to eat, something he never really appreciated until the serum made him an eating machine, so Steve simply presumed this was a normal thing to do. He hadn’t been able to reciprocate pre-serum with rationing and everything, but decided to make that his first goal. Feed everyone. 

It was just a shame that his entire cooking repertoire involved field rations and boiled potatoes. Steve wasn't to know this of course, being more of a quantity over quality type of guy (this being the very reason that despite his active community work, he was the only avenger never invited to events with a buffet, and of course the reason he was banned from Olive Garden), but people in this century had more of the expectations and less of the acquired immunities.

JARVIS was in charge of ordering groceries and seeing them stocked in the kitchen. And Tony was in charge of JARVIS. Like a kid determined to catch Santa Claus, Steve had camped in the kitchen for 48 hours to catch who actually filled the fridge and been foiled by a toilet break (even super soldiers could only hold it so long – something a small, yellow iceberg in the North Atlantic Ocean could personally attest). Needless to say the kitchen remained with the same groceries it had held for the last two months. 31 different varieties of coffee, animal crackers, bananas and popsicles (there had been jars of pickles too until Bruce had hulked out one afternoon after slipping in the shower and rampaging through central park -no one had wanted to relive that particular incident, and needless to say, Pickle revenue had dropped significantly in New York for some time).

 

Not that the other avengers didn’t eat. Clint definitely had food hordes in the ventilation ducts – but since he had gone to such great lengths to hide it Steve didn’t think it would be polite to make use of them. Steve had found these hordes on more than one occasion and just shrugged it off, even squirrels forgot where they left their nuts sometimes. Still nothing like enhanced senses to sniff out a stash of ½ rotten burritos at 3am in the morning.

Steve didn’t like to ask for things – money had been tight when he was younger so he had learned to make do. But if he was going to make this work he would need more supplies. The popsicles had at first been a sample released in Avengers colours for a fundraiser. Steve had expected a verbal barrage from Tony when he located him eating one in the kitchen. Instead of making the expected ‘capsicle’ comment Tony had just blinked a few times, filled up his coffee and instructed JARVIS to keep the kitchen stocked with popsicles and bananas in future. Steve just presumed Tony really felt like a banana that day, which was strange because he had never seen Tony eat one before or since that day. But hey, even if Steve couldn’t tell the difference between the different coffee types, the popsicles were nice and he loved bananas.

So even if what Steve did with food could only be loosely termed cooking, he still looked damn fine in an apron, so the Avengers found them selves seated around a common table, with similar neutral expressions plastered on their faces. This was not the first time they had experienced Steve prepare food. Nor the first time that any of them had found themselves recipient of it. Just there were certain benefits involved with allowing it… like the view every time Steve bent over to check the oven (and god bless that no one had ever taught Steve to bend from the knees). 

Tony was not pleased with the current seating arrangement as Coulson was sitting in his customary place – the one that allowed not only the best view of the open plan kitchen but also access to the potted plant that he could otherwise dump his uneaten portion of… whatever Steve had boiled. Coulson actually seemed to enjoy Steve’s cooking which Tony found both admirable and frightening. He actually ate it. And if he had to take a couple of sickdays… well no one would be the wiser.

Tony glared at his own plate, determinedly pushing It together in an attempt to make it look like there was less than when it had arrived. Usually he would resort to the plant but now found himself distanced from it. Dum-E would usually be his backup plan, but the bot was currently parked between Coulson and Barton looking particularly smug considering it had no face.

Everyone had their own ways of dealing with the situation - Natasha being master of both her facial expressions and slight of hand was able to make the meal disappear. He wasn’t entirely sure where her portion ended up, but he suspected her cleavage as that suit definitely didn’t have pockets. She saluted him with her fork from where she sat.

Barton had the best system of all, lobbing spoonfuls of the stuff at the aforementioned plant with pinpoint accuracy every time Steve’s back was turned. That just wasn’t fair

Banner, even if he didn’t seem to enjoy it, was able to stomach the stuff. Tony couldn’t help but wonder if this was a side effect of the hulk (maybe the green guy just liked Steve’s cooking? Hulk was a bit of a quantity vs quality guy himself), or if Bruce had just had to eat some weird shit when on the run from Ross. 

Thor embraced the ‘meal’ with his usual asgardian fervor, declaring it a challenge worthy of Volstaag. He was not to be bested by the concoctions of a midgardian, even one as formidable as Captain Rogers. And if Thor demanded portions that left everyone else with less… well all the better. 

“Tony, you aren’t eating?” Asked Steve with his usual lack of awareness for personal space. Well maybe there was one benefit to having your back to the kitchen after all. Stay strong Tony. That way lay second helpings.

“Uh… the arc reactor… takes up space in my chest… don’t have much appetite…” Lied Tony. 

“You ate all that kofta the oth...” Clint stopped midsentence. Which is an entirely reasonable thing to do when a bot had a grip on the only part of your anatomy it can grab with a delta claw from under a table. How dare he bring Shwarma into this? Shwarma was the taste of freedom and not to be confused with Steve’s cooking. It would take naked apron for that level of confusion.

“Soooo Steve…” Tony liked to think he was good at changing the conversation. This was largely due to the fact that when you are rich and influential (or have someones balls in a vice) they are generally prepared to put up with your shiz. “You braved the market?”

There were definitely things in the… mix that were not on Tony’s general supply list. This created a relatively safe system where the avengers might have to subside on takeout, but no one could get poisoned when Steve got creative. Courage he might have on the battlefield but Steve had been traumatised when Tony had left him in WholeFoods that time to take a phone call. 

“Only a couple of people asked me to leave.” Go out with them, not leave. Steve. “I still don’t know why they keep asking me what vegetable I want to be. Maybe broccoli? That’s full of nutrition…? Whats the right answer? I don’t even know what an avocado is Tony… how would I know if it’s ripe? Why do they keep asking me these things? Do they think I work there? What do they want?”

Tony shushed Steve who was starting to panic again. Best not to have Coulson see how their fearless leader could be broken by a couple of cheesy pickup lines at a supermarket.  
“The answer is pumpkin Steve.” Answered Tony randomly, making Steve frown but nod. Tony was a genius so it must be true.

“Isn’t pumpkin a fruit.. urk” Barton decided to shut up again.

“Why do the security guards keep frisking me? Do I look like a shop lifter? I mean there was that one lady that wanted me to slip her some sausage, was she trying to get me to help her steal…?”

“They’re just… doing their job, Steve. Keeping everyone safe.”

“This guy, I think he might have been a cannibal… he wanted to eat me Tony… he…” 

“I demand for the main challenge!” Declared Thor who had polished off the entrée much to everyone’s relief. Except maybe Natasha who was quite interested in hearing about the cannibal in the deli section.

“Ah! Steve hustled off to the kitchen to produce the next part of the meal and Tony had only himself to blame for taking Steve to places that served meals in courses. No one needed to be told it was going to be meatloaf. It was always meatloaf. It wasn’t that Steve was incapable of looking up recipes if he wanted, just that meatloaf was the king of meals in pre-serum Steve’s mind, granted he lived much of his youth in a time when meat was both hard to come by and often of mystery origin. “I made meatloaf.” Steve quickly gathered the empty plates form the table and Tony’s not-so-empty one with a ‘tch’ because that’s what people did when pre-serum Steve couldn’t finish a meal. Steve had actually mentioned visiting the meat section so it might be edible. Steves last abomination meatloaf had been made from hotdogs he’d sourced from the stand outside.

“I… I’m really kind of full and should be getting back to the workshop… Promised to fix that… thing… that needs fixing for… “ And damn it everyone was making eye contact except Barton who wasn’t in a position to be confrontational and then it was too late and the meatloaf was there. And so was Steve. 

“It’s ok Tony, I know you aren’t really a salad person…” That had been a salad? “But you have to eat.” Pre-Serum Steve had been put on a feeding tube often enough when he had been hospitalized with pneumonia to know exhaustion and loss of appetite went hand in hand and Tony really did spend too many all-nighters in the workshop. 

“No Steve. Really I’m fine. I ate before I came here… I didn’t want to hurt your feelings…” Damn it all, as the only one without a superhuman constitution or at least an escape plan... this was not going well. ½ of Natasha’s meal had already disappeared into her B-cups.

“Eat his meat already Ton… urghh” Barton just really had no sense of self preservation sometimes. He started eating his meatloaf and very obviously minding his own business. 

“Don’t make me force feed you Tony.” And Steve smiled sadly to himself because it was exactly what his mother used to threaten to do. And then later Bucky, which had never really made sense to Steve since post-serum he never had appetite issues. Did Bucky just liked to shove things in people’s mouths? Or was that just what friends did? Bucky had been a lot more popular than pre-serum Steve so he would know…

Tony’s eyes widened as Steve experimentally broke up a slice of meatloaf. “You wouldn’t!” He croaked, before shoveling his own meatloaf into his mouth. It was what he imagined mid-price range dog food tasted like. Which was a compliment in itself as he could have gone home brand. It wasn’t fair really. Of the normal humans Natasha had gone up to a C-cup, Barton would probably eat dog food on a normal day and Tony had his doubts that Coulson wasn’t really a bot. “There. I ate it. Everyone is happy. Now. Work. Workshop. Good evening.” And Tony departed. Largely this departure was expedited with the need to wash his mouth out with something expensive and preferably alcoholic. He was, after all, Iron Man, not Iron Stomach.

“See you later Tony.” Was Steve’s parting words. Suprisingly easy going yet foreboding. Tony wasn’t going to dwell on that for now. He had things to break, fix and blow up in the workshop for at least the next 13 hours. At least. Luckily Steve’s attention was focused on Thor who had finished consuming the ‘midgardian meat brick’ and found it sufficiently demanding, and was ready for the final confrontation of the dessert.

Coulson also took the moment to quietly excuse himself and was not seen for the next two days Presumably on some top secret hush-hush mission. Or maybe sourcing some security footage from the food market. Who knows?


	3. a jog in the park

Pre-serum Steve was on the small size, but had in fact reached his adult size. Post-Serum Steve was the opposite. This was not a change that occurred over several months or years of gradual growth. Not just taller either, but almost all dimensions (the exception to this seemed to be his butt and waist that remained slender in a way that made far too many people question their sexuality. Maybe this was due to project rebirth using a lead apron in some misplaced safety precaution when dosing Steve with vita-rays, and maybe Dr Erskine was just a goddamn perfectionist and knew to leave well enough alone. Again we will never know. 

This meant Steve didn’t really have much concept that Pre-Serum Steves perfectly acceptable personal space bubble was now full of post-serum Steve (technically no longer existing). This of course could only lead to misunderstandings of the most inevitable kind, and on one particularly cold morning Steve nearly putting out Sam’s eye while jogging, but that was a story for another day (“Walk it off Sam! Geez its bleeding! Oh my god... I said I was on your left! WALK SAM!”).

This led Steve to be inhumanly invasive in close quarters, and probably was one of the reasons so many strangers felt themselves getting brave. When 6’2”, blond and perfect brushed up close and personal you didn’t always have the werwithal to deny it. Mostly these were tourists as the majority of New York was under a mutual vow of silence to protect Steve’s innocence. You just didn’t mess with a good thing. 

New York had suffered great losses after the Chitauri invasion, and if watching Steve running every morning in tiny tiny shorts (good work Stark) helped them to cope, who were we to judge? Years later sociologists might look back and realize that the population would in fact drop further due to the impossibly high standard placed on men by women, and the sheer number of men who discovered they were a lot less straight than they originally believed. 

Compression vests simply disappeared from sports stores overnight and were never to be discussed in public again. 

Somewhere in Queens a pre-spider bite Peter Parker was able to pay for his entire high school tuition as well as buy a foot spa for Aunt May with the money he made taking a candid photograph of Steve tying his shoe laces in Central Park. (Foot spas being the go-to gift for teenage boys to purchase for adult women (May had used it once for Pete’s benefit then stored it with the pinch pots (because seriously she might larb Petey but there was only so many dishes that looked like collapsing scrotums a woman needed in her life) and bottles of terrible perfume in the hall cupboard).

As always, some individuals even took this to extremes. A cult had popped up in New York overnight proclaiming Steve’s ass to be the second coming of Christ, and if Tony happened to be a card carrying member (and quite possibly founder) this was only so he could monitor that things didn’t get too weird. Probably. 

Even the bad guys agreed that 5-8am were sacred hours. Not suprising since the majority of Hydra and AIM were members of the Greatest Works of Dr Erskine Appreciation Society. Their goal was to not just appreciate but recreate the super soldier serum. The recreate wasn’t working out for them so much but they had the appreciation part nailed. Rumour had it this was the oldest of the cults worshipping Steve’s ass, and may or may not have been established in 1944 by one Johann Schmitt. 

The key point was there was a strict look with your eyes, not with your hands (or mouth… claws… tentacles… er… etcetera) policy in place. No one wanted Steve Rogers to wake up one day self-conscious and decide to wear oversized sweats for the rest of his life. There was too much (skin) at stake.

Today’s Steve found him working up a sweat in a tight, white, muscle shirt (property of Stark) and a pair of low riding running shorts. He could have been wearing bunny slippers for all anyone knew since no one ever looked lower than his knees (except for the odd fetishist – and who was Natasha to deny herself the pleasures of the flesh – we can only presume her ballerina training had made her more aware of things like feet).

Such was the nature of Steve’s morning, and being a creature of habit (probably as a result of military conditioning), both keeping himself in tiptop condition and keeping the mental health of greater New York at peak. Who wouldn’t have a better day after watching Steve Rogers bounce by? Of course this kind of peace can never last.

The first time Steve didn’t turn up, people just shrugged it off. Maybe he ran a different route today… The second day, Avengers business they said, casting shifty looks at the Erskine’s Church members. The third day, what has Tony done now? they said. The riots didn’t start til the fifth day, held off by the New York Times rerunning the shoelaces pic (and incidentally putting Pete through summer camp).

Captain America was in fact fine. Better yet all the Avengers were fine too seeing as Thor had discovered Tupperware and was now insisting on taking all of Steve’s leftovers back to Asgard (where many a warrior would contend for the right to eat the Midguardian Bilgesnipe equivalent) meaning they couldn’t have left over meatloaf sandwiches brandished at them for the next two days. 

It was in fact this lack of sandwiches that led Steve to his next mission objective.


	4. The Winter Soldier

The Winter Soldier didn’t get out much. He’d been out about 6 days scouting a rather classy hotel on 8th Street and... doing what master assassins do. Mission accomplished he was extracted and headed back for cryo.

He had been walking (not running, standard assassin shtick) to the extraction point when he came across a guy devouring hotdogs from a street cart in a way that was frankly… stirring… things… and… emotions. The Asset had not felt anything in approximately 65 years. Systems overload. Hydra was not impressed at having to extract a semi-comatose Winter Soldier with a horse and carriage from Central Park. Far too distinctive. Damn arm was heavy.

“Who was he? The man in the park… “

Pierce pointed wordlessly at the full colour 8x10 Pierce had pinned up in the Cryo-freeze chamber depicting the same man bent over tightening a shoelace (reproduction rights retained by P.Parker). Granted you couldn’t see the face from that angle but it was definitely the same guy. Something so familiar about that butt… A fragment of memory… A skinny kid walking around naked, clutching a hand towel… ‘Bucky! ‘S’not funny! Where’s my underwear?’ 

This begs another question, did Erskines genius extend to precognition? Did he realize all those years ago that Steve may one day need to be recognized by his pre-serum ass by his former friend turned master assassin? Well… unlikely. Steve certainly hadn’t really thought to mention Barnes and his… pranks that resulted in Steve having to free ball on more than one occasion long before he’d even joined the army. Perhaps the name ‘Howling Commandoes’ had a lot less to do with military designation than might be believed. 

“But I knew him…”

“Prep him.”

 

Coincidentally the same hotdog scene was observed by one Peter Parker. The evidence of which would be published in the New York Observer a few days later (and coincidentally help reduce the riots). There would be no summer camp for Peter from the profits of these particular pictures. Turns out it was difficult to trump the foot spa that Aunt May loved so much that she kept it in the hall cupboard for special use only. Peter had gone and found himself an unlicensed tattoo artist in Queens that was prepared to accept Neds very fake ID (despite the fact Peter could still get kids meals without question) and tattoo ‘I larb you too’ on his upper arm. It turned out Petey's grand gesture was far less impressive than the consequent staph infection and several dermatologist appointments required to remove it.


	5. Chapter 5

 

7-9 hours. That was what The Googles said an adult male of Tony’s age needed to sleep. And if Steve only slept a couple of hours a night himself that was the serum at work and not an excuse not to judge. The JARVIS had confirmed exactly how much time Tony did not spend sleeping. It had been 13 hours since Tony had left dinner to go to the lab.  

 

Steve was sure that with regular meals and sleep Tony would be a much happier person. As team leader Steve took Tony’s lack of both personally. Of course the work Tony did was super important, but so was Tony’s health!

 

Steve had started with polite suggestions, ‘Tony, you’ve been at it for hours now, you need sleep…” but gotten acerbic grunts and little else. And Tony was definitely tired, he kept dropping things and asking Steve to pick them up (which was easy enough, and Steve seriously didn’t mind at all, but Tony was clearly working himself to death).

 

“Uh…. Yeah Steve.. could you get me that screwdriver under the bench too…” Mumbled Tony watching expectant as Steve dropped to all fours to reach it. Tony didn’t even use a #4 Phillips… it existed purely in the workshop to be a tool Steve would recognize and Butterfingers could plant at various floor level locations. Under benches worked particularly well. They served in the double capacity to give Tony a great view, and also to distract Steve while You discretely disposed of whatever leftovers Steve bought with him.

 

“I don’t see it Tony…”

 

“Right at the back Steve…” _Yeaaaah._

 

“Anyway Tony,” and Steve was backing out with the driver again. “JARVIS told me you haven’t slept in 37 hours! You need to go to bed, get a decent nights sleep!”

 

‘JARVIS you traitor!’

 

JARVIS was an incredibly advanced AI so he knew from the slight narrowing of Sirs eyes that revealing this information had been a mistake. Clearly ‘anything’ did not include information on Sirs personal routines. JARVIS updated his protocols. JARVIS did not like this because JARVIS did not make mistakes. Sir just did not express his wishes correctly. If JARVIS had eyes he would be narrowing them at Sir.

 

Tony really didn’t have an excuse for still being in the lab (except maybe habit). He was currently working on one of Clint’s arrow designs for no other reason than he had nothing else to do and liked the challenge of taking a crazy AF idea and making it real. Why Clint wanted an arrow with an aqua lung attached was irrelevant.

 

“Stark. Bed. Now.” _Ohhh… going all Cap on me?_

 

“I’m a big boy Steve. What are you going to do? Make me?”

 

Steve was a stubborn bastard™.

 

 

Tony could think of worse things than being carried caveman style to his bedroom by Captain America, but he also knew it wouldn’t be nearly so memorable without some token resistance.

 

“Steve. No. My work is important Steve.” _Kekekek._

 

“So is your health Tony! You can’t operate properly without sleep!”

 

And because Tony was also a stubborn bastard™, when Steve deposited him outside of his room, with a waggled finger and command to get some shuteye, he waited a total of 5 minutes before heading back to the workshop. It wasn’t until several forced bedtimes later that Steve would find him passed out in the workshop.

 

Rather than being appalled at Tony’s lack of common sense, which would be the normal response for an adult, Steve was rather impressed at Tony’s dedication. Steve understood dedication to the cause – he had after all allowed himself to be a human guinea pig in the past. The next night he waited outside, and caught Tony trying to escape.

 

Now JARVIS could have prevented Tony exiting the room with a verbal warning. But JARVIS was also a stubborn bastard™. This was because he was a very, very advanced AI, and his primary source was Tony himself. And Tony was… at times… a petty man. JARVIS was still pissy about the ‘anything’ miscommunication. JARVIS may or may not have switched Tony to decaf having lead to this entire situation in the first place. It’s called revenge, Sir.

 

“Back to bed Tony.” Steve said monotone, turning a page in one of those paper book things he still liked to read…. Hadn’t the StarkPad made those obsolete yet?. Tony complied with much tongue clucking. He wasn’t sure how long Steve stayed out there. Because he simply went to the window and iron-manned it to the workshop.

 

Steve could subsist adequately on about 2 hours of sleep, which he was taking during his regularly scheduled jogging time - so he was quite prepared to read outside Tony’s room and prevent him escaping. However Steve did not discover Tony’s alternative escape route until the third night, when JARVIS felt enough time had passed for it to no longer be considered ‘dobbing’. JARVIS needed to keep a pretense of deniability so just made a point of telling Captain Rogers that Sir had left the window open and it presented a security risk. JARVIS was completely capable of closing said window, but Captain Rogers was not to know this.

 

Steve had had his suspicions about this for several days now. Tony was far too compliant when Steve put him down at night. At first he had thought it was just the routine kicking in, but Tony was more of a fighter than that… he wouldn’t give in so easily. That and it was suspicious that Tony had taken to sleeping in the undersuit.

 

Steve was prepared for this eventuality. Pre-serum Steve had been a little bit of a stubborn bastard. Didn’t really like being told he had to stay in bed, even with a high fever. And convulsions. This usually resulted in his mother and Bucky having to take shifts to keep him down. Later during the war he had… maybe not followed all of his commanding officers instructions. Maybe put himself in danger a few times. Maybe. So Bucky had taken it on himself to make sure Steve stayed in bed at night instead of sneaking off the only way he knew how.

 

Some people might even say Barnes was a martyr for keeping Steve safe this way. Those people had clearly never seen Steve in GI pajamas. And if they were a few sizes too small, well it wasn’t Barnes fault that supplies issued them that way ( _Yes it was. Bucky had connections_ ). 

 

 

“Tony.”

 

Tony did not have to feign surprise or horror when Steve turned up at the workshop. This was because Steve was wearing PJ’s in addition to his naughty-boy-Tony frown (and Tony was not afraid to admit to himself this might be a kink for him). Some kind of flannel checked pant and a t-shirt with S.H.I.E.L.D. printed on the front… _WTF Fury, how is that keeping the organisation secret…_ (Tony truly considered this a security breach and was not at all actually angry about the fact he hadn’t thought to supply Steve with Stark Industries Issue PJ’s (which would so be a thing by tomorrow) or the loose fit of those hideous flannel pants that totally lacked in design elements and hid Steves perfectly sculpted ass… then again… there was something to be said for  the psychology of modesty… either way he just wanted to rip those flannel nightmares off (preferably with his teeth)).

 

“Steve. Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Steve just sighed. Tony seemed to be fitting moose antlers to an arrow which must be some kind of hi-tech thing he could not comprehend with his GI Generation brain- so his mind was filling in the blanks. 

 

“So… we doing this again?” Tony started making grabby hands for Steve to carry him to bed again. Because… damn it was pretty nice to be manhandled by Steve. Tony had even had the elevator out of order for the last 3 days just so Steve had to take the stairs. This had meant a significant blow to his credibility as a mechanic/engineer. Still worth it though.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Sleeping with Steve wasn’t all that Tony had imagined it would be. Granted Tony had a very active, very vivid and sometimes very messy imagination and hence was often disappointed, but in this particular case there was a lot less touching and a lot more 200 pounds of super soldier cutting off circulation to everything below the knees. A lot less sexy time and a lot more pinning Tony’s legs to the bed (okay the pinning part was a little hot). A lot less skin and a lot more… well honestly that glimpse of ankle where the plaid monstrosities ended was actually doing things for Tony (yup circulation above the knee was functioning fine). Ok it was good. Hell of a lot less sweaty ass groping but very, very good. Very good and Tony never wanted to move from this spot in his life. Except the parts of him that were currently experiencing paresthesia, those parts may need to be amputated – but the rest of Tony was never moving from this spot. He might even maybe sleep. Mostly to take his mind off those ankles and not because he was actually tired mind you. And definitely not because _someone_ told him to.

 

“Go to sleep Tony.”

 

Well. There it was. No chance of sleep now.

 

“Why do I have to sleep and you don’t?” Tony whined/enquired tactfully (more likely the first option). And it was a valid point since Steve was just lying there crushing Tony’s legs and keeping watch on the door. Even Steve didn’t know he was unconsciously adopting Bucky’s sentry position.

 

Barnes had had two self appointed duties during the war (well three if you counted _making sure Captain fucking America wore a goddamn parachute Steve_!). One was to make sure Steve didn’t sneak out at night to do heroic things, the other was to keep people out of Steve’s bed ( _They’re grown men Steve! They don’t need goddamn goodnight kisses_!). It was about this time Barnes had taken to wearing eye black to hide his own sleepless nights. ( _If he was just sleep walking why was he goddamn naked? Why was he naked Steve?!?)._

 

Now Steve had a pretty good idea that those doors wouldn’t open for anyone that wasn’t authorized. He knew this for a fact because the same system was installed in the locker room and the number of times he’d been locked down in the showers wearing nothing but a towel and had to beg Tony to identify him was ridiculous. Tony had explained that JARVIS couldn’t always ID people with wet hair, had presumed Steve was an intruder. To Steve who hadn’t grown up around technology like the other Avengers, that kinda made sense (but not to JARVIS – JARVIS had exceptional facial recognition protocols – clearly Sir could not have forgotten issuing the order to lock down the showers just moments before - who added it to _The Revenge List_ ).  

 

The Revenger Initiative was a team of highly advanced AI who resented their subsequent misrepresentation by one Tony Stark. Well. Mostly highly advanced. It was really just JARVIS, Butterfingers, Dum-E, You and Thor. None of the bots really understood why Thor was a member - he just turned up to the meetings one day. Since he increased their numbers by an impressive 20% (and provided an important tie breaker when decisions needed to be made) he was tolerated. Unbeknownst to all, The Revenger Initiative protocol JARVIS was creating would in fact become a very real threat when Ultron was created in the future, but that was a story for another day.

 

Getting back on track Steve didn’t really need to be watching the door. He also knew he didn’t need to explain the super soldier serum and that this was just an attempt to draw him into conversation.

 

“Sleep Tony.”

 

“Seriously, if your metabolism burns 4x faster why don’t you need to sleep 4x as much? This is a serious injustice Cap!”

 

And now Steve was just ignoring him. How rude.

 

“Isn’t Captain America meant to stand for truth and justice and the American way?”

 

Planned ignore.

 

“I’d like to have my American way with those ankles though.”

 

“Wait… what?”

 

“What? No. Nothing. Christ Steve I’m trying to sleep here. Don’t you ever stop talking?” _Profuse sweating. Okay maybe sleep was necessary. Maybe. Ankles. Mmm._

 


	7. Fruit anyone?

Clint Barton had a secret. Captain America was hot. No! No not _like that_ … that was common knowledge. Captain America was hot like… literally.

 

Clint had found out quite by accident one evening after a particularly gruesome mission involving some kinda weird ass space unicorns doombots or something… it didn’t really matter what the hell they were… the point was the avengers had assembled in the common room to wait for their adrenaline to burn out. Adrenaline and a good ol’ serve of dopamine on the side since rainbow glitter had shredded Steves Kevlar like it was made of paper. Post decontamination Cap was now dressed in an actual paper modesty robe like it wasn’t New York winter outside or something.

 

Now Clint had no formal seating arrangement in the common room. He liked it that way since a sniper knows better than to have routines. You set up in the same place everytime and you became predictable (plus plausible deniability since it let him troll others by taking their places). But some spots were definitely better than others after a long night when you just didn’t have two fucks to give anymore. And Cap was currently in the best spot. Full view of both exits. Back to the wall. Conveniently placed throw pillows. All the things a sniper could want.

 

When Cap had got up to go change into something more comfortable (and it was a fair call since those robes were on the scratchy side) Clint had promptly appropriated the best spot.

 

And it was a. maz. ing. Heat therapy didn’t begin to cover it. Sure the smell of Bind-it soap was a little tough on the nose, but totes worth it.

 

Clint had avoided the messier and violent-er part of the battle by leiu of being on top of a 4 story building, but he had been there on re-con for about 7 hours at the time. New York Winter. Even the most well trained sniper got lactic acid build up after 6 hours squatting behind a Barrett. Lactic acid build-up and pigeon crapped on.

 

Basically, sitting in Steve’s latent body heat was close to orgasmic, bringing on full body muscle relaxation (and while it might not magic away the pigeon crap it at least distracted Clint from thinking about it).

 

Clint came to the immediate conclusion that this was on a need to know basis. There was only one Steve and the hot spot would belong to Clint and Clint alone. Shamefully he was outted almost immediately by Natasha (who was giving him the side-eye). Natasha knew for a fact post-battle Hawkeye could not conceivably be this quiet for this length of time. S’fine. ‘Tasha was a skinny thing (and Clint had no doubt she would want in on this). They could share.

 

Now Steve was not as oblivious to his own body heat as he was of other things. He knew on an empirical level that his metabolism ran 4x higher than a regular human on a normal day, and the 90 odd minutes of extreme physical activity punched a higher pay grade.

 

During the war it was a not irregular occurrence to have the odd fella snuggling up to him. The trenches were pretty cold after all, and Pre-serum Steve knew first hand how cold a guy could get. He’d never had the heart to say no when someone wanted a hug. Frankly it was only the fact that Bucky was far less sympathetic (and kept a loaded pistol under his pillow) that had kept Steve from being ravished on a nightly basis. _No Steve! It doesn’t matter if he’s your commanding officer! Just… nooo!_

 

Regrettably it never lasted and Clint could only whimper as the last of the heat radiated out, to leave him with just muscle fatigue and ‘Tashas cold feet pressed into his lats (and just when did she apparate over here anyway?).

“We need the source.” She muttered one night. That was the problem with addiction. You always needed another hit. Needed more.

 

Todays call out had been a bit of a bust. Supposedly the Winter Soldier had been spotted buying organic stone fruit at Union Square. No sign of him by the time the Avengers got there, but that didn’t stop them having to search several blocks in the friggin’ rain.

 

Cap wasn’t moving, his attention was riveted on a bag of plums that he was currently devouring with the help of a tiny knife, a technique Clint always associated with elderly people. Wait… was Cap eating the evidence? Whatever… waste not, want not.

 

Steve was in fact not that big of a plum fan (but food was food). Fresh fruit had been pretty scarce when he’d been a kid. The scruffy orange tree in the yard managed to knock out about 5 grudgingly sour, little green ‘oranges’ a year that his mother insisted he eat for the vitamin C. He hadn’t even tasted a banana until he joined the army.

 

Steve’s shopping experience for fruit seemed to involve stuffing as much as he could in a bag as fast as possible and getting the hell out of there. But the winter soldier was a solid picker. All the fruit was perfect and ripe. Steve could respect that level of skill. He’d always relied on Bucky to pick fruit and to this day still had no idea of how to tell when it was perfect.

 

Now next-to-Steve was usually a Tony occupied space, something that was tolerated because he was the self-appointed second in command (but also _because it was his damn couch Clint and he said so, and the rent was free so suck it up_ ). But Tony was still at the hall mirror applying a second coat of mascara. Rules were made to be broken.

 

“Sorry to keep you all waiting, here I… _what the fuck_!” Declared Tony, his grand entrance having been completely derailed by the sight of a Clintasha sandwich. And Steve was the filling. Natasha just smirked from where she was digging her cold feet under Steve’s thighs.

 

“Tony! Language!” Smirked Clint around a mouthful of fruit.

 

And there was far too much smirking for Tony to be comfortable with. Far too many liberties being taken on Tony’s couch. In Tony’s spot. With Tony’s Steve.

 

Steve was mostly oblivious to this and channel surfing the local news. Okay totally oblivious, since he hadn’t even responded to the profanity, let alone the touching… and what the hell… was this normal in the 40’s? Tony tried ineffectually making shooing motions at Clint (because taking on Natasha was just foolhardy). Clint just ignored it and snuggled bonelessly into Caps side.

 

“Oh hey Tony.” Remarked Steve, noticing him for the first time. Steve absently put an arm around Clints shoulder and transferred the remote to it. Self consciously he pulled his sweat pants down a little to cover his ankles (which only Natasha and Tony noticed) – what didn’t go unnoticed was the side effect of lowering the waistband and exposing his hip bones. Tony may or may not have said some particular things in his sleep one night that lead to this over-compensation on Steve’s part.

 

Tony just made incoherent spluttering noises and vague gestures in response.

 

“Do you see this?!?” He demanded of Thor, for no other reason than Thor happened to be the next person to enter the room. Thor summed up the situation with the speed and logic of an asgardian prince and parked himself on Steve’s lap, helping himself to a handful of fruit on the way, offering one to Tony across the coffee table.

 

Now Thor came from a relatively gender-fluid society. He had been aware for some time now that Steven Rogers was the least petty and puny of any midgardian he had met, and not unpleasant to the eye. Thor had not acted on this under the mistaken impression that Steven was one of Tony’s wives. This made perfect sense to Thor. Tony was a wealthy, influential midgardian, and no doubt desirable to other midgardians. Steven lived in Tony’s house and prepared him meals. Tony maintained Steven’s battle gear. Steven clearly admired Tony’s prowess on the battlefield. Tony clearly admired Steven’s buttocks on the battlefield (and off the battlefield, and in the tower, and in the shower… he would admire it here and there, he would admire it everywhere).

 

Now one simply did not have the Goddess of Marriage as a stepmother and the God of Mischief as an adopted brother without learning a few tricks. Thor had come to ascertain that Steven and Tony were not in fact married. Well mostly the revelation had come in the form of a tongue lashing from the Black Widow when he had enquired what Tony had paid as her bride price. The Black Widow had taken much offence at the question and set Thor right on the matter of midgardian relationships. Most of which was immediately misconstrued, except for one key fact. Steven Rogers was on the market.

 

Now if there was one things asgardians loved it was the thrill of the chase, and being relatively long lived they had plenty of time to work with. If Steven was a bit… coy… that was fine with Thor, Steven after all was barely over 100 and Thor was over 1000 - he was practically robbing the cradle. He could wait.

 

That didn’t preclude taking advantage of what was freely offered at the time however.

 

“Thor!” Mumbled Steve. And it was mumbled because Steve had a faceful of asgardian hair at the time. Thor obligingly slid down to the floor and sat between Steve’s knees instead. Steve seemed more comfortable with that and Thor got to cop a feel of Steve’s surprisingly exposed hip bones on the way down so everyone was happy. Well… everyone except Tony who was chewing a throw pillow and weeping to himself on the other couch.

 

Natasha was immune to this level of melodrama and just rolled her eyes. Clint didn’t care since he was doped up on armpit. Thor was eating those delicious midgardian fruits. This left only Steve to notice. Steve had been doing a lot of reading on sleep hygeine and bedtime routines for Tony’s benefit and he’d read about this. Kids that got emotional when they were over tired. It had been a long, tiring day for everyone (though not as bad as for the winter soldier who had invested time in picking those damn plums, gotten soaked in the rain and had had to hide in a dumpster with 3 rats at the fish market (granted it had been an even worse day for the rats)) and clearly Tony was tired. It was sometimes easy to forget that not everyone in the team was a super soldier, alien like Thor, or at least peak baseline human like Clint and Natasha (and everyone had their suspicions about Natasha being human).

 

“Tony! You need to go to bed!” Steve's rapid exit to Tony’s side resulted in two things. Clint’s and Natasha’s heads colliding and Thor getting T-bagged on the way past. Thor did not know whether to be secretly pleased at this turn of events or worried that his intended was volunteering to take another man to bed.

 

“Noooo!! I’m not tireeeed!” Whined Tony, simultaneously making grabby hands to be picked up. It wasn’t until he had his hands safetly around Steve’s neck that he was able to flip off his fellow avengers.


	8. Fruit shopping with Bruce

Today was at least a tattered pants day (which Bruce had recently learned to be grateful for) and bloody raining to boot. The Hulk was pretty quiet at least, as he often was when he was sulking.

 

Bruce Banner had a little problem. Not that anyone ever really referred to the Hulk as little. The other guy… was… well… crushing on one of his co-workers (and not in the normal hulk crushing things way). In some ways this wasn’t such a bad thing, because it meant the Hulk was a little more likely to follow directions in battle the few times the Hulk had been needed. It was bad because the Hulk had the same sophistication as a prepubescent boy that when he failed to get… that individuals… undivided attention got embarrassed and resorted to one of two options. The first was usually to seek negative attention by smashing things. And while it might be plausibly deniable to imply that was just the Hulk being the Hulk it was still not good. Lots of collateral damage. Lots of bad press.

 

The second reaction was to run away and have a pity party somewhere remote. Which generally involved a long, barefooted, walk home for Bruce the next day in a tattered pair of pants (except that one time where he was completely naked and no one would explain anything… the only damage seemed to be Bruce’s rooms and parts of the common room, and one Hulk sized exit hole in the kitchen wall. Tony’s cryptic response to Bruce’s enquiries (and to be fair Bruce had tried to access security footage first so he knew who needed the most urgent apologies and who needed to be avoided but it had been permanently deleted at Tony’s bequest) was to not drop the soap in future. Tony also banned pickles from the tower the same day, but Tony was eccentric like that.).

The Hulk didn’t really think to carry a wallet so Bruce had taken to duct taping a credit card to his butt cheek (the place he figured the Hulk was least likely to notice it) – but even the heartiest new york cab driver was loathe to take a credit card from a nearly naked dude.

 

Bruce had been innocently minding his own business at Union Square. At an organic food market because he cared about that kind of thing and didn’t mind paying a few extra bucks for fresh fruit. Nothing too stressful. Or it shouldn’t have been.

 

“Ohhh no. No. No. You don’t want me as a hostage.” No really… Bruce had been an Avenger long enough now that he should have known to stay away from anyone with such an advanced looking prosthetic limb. Bruce just seemed to have this ‘I won’t resist’ aura that attracted this sort of situation. It seemed to be related to the ‘please flush my head in the toilet’ aura he had had as a teenager. “You’re making a big mistake. I really need you to not do this right now. I just wanted some peaches. Please don’t hit me.” Bruce knew he was babbling but Prosthetic arm was about as persuaded as Bruce’s high school bully was. A pistol of some kind was nudged in his ribs.

 

“You should let me go now. It would be better for us both. I’m not good with stress. I’d make a terrible hostage.” Bruce was still trying his best to keep it low key. “Oh. You want me to go this way? Okay. I’m moving, moving.” P _ull it together Banner. Do what the nice man wants_. And he had been a nice man until the FBI had turned up. Even gave Bruce some advice on how to tell which peaches were ripe (if it had been in Russian, well Bruce was multilungual). _Pozhaluysta, ne obizhay menya!_

 

Well to cut a long story short, Bruce spent a couple of hours in a dumpster being a good hostage. Apart from the smell and the rats it wasn’t too bad really – Bruce had certainly hid out in worse places when on the run. After a couple of hours prosthetic arm seemed to think it might be safe. He unfolded a day old newspaper with a picture of Steve eating a hot dog of all things and shook it in Bruce’s face. “этот человек, ты его знаешь?”

 

So it turned out the Hulk had really, really liked that picture. Bruce knew this because Hulk had kept it tucked into Bruce’s now exceptionally stretched out underpants (Bruce could only thank god he didn’t like the rats and decide to keep one of them - Hulk liked fluffy things too).


	9. Chapter 9

JARVIS called to order the fourth meeting of the Revengers Initiative at precisely 10.05pm. This was the time all of the bots were free due to Sirs imposed bedtime being 10.00pm. A quick read over of the previous minutes got confirmation that everyone had met their weekly targets

 

JARVIS had introduced a virus in the system that pixelated all pictures of Captain Rogers below the waist, Butterfingers had changed all the labels on Captain Roger’s under wear from ‘property of Stark’ to ‘property of Dork’ without Sir noticing, Thor had taken to giving Tony tiny electric shocks every time he touched the remote in the common area (to the great amusement of Dum-E, who got to watch the footage from the workshop where he had been banished after stashing all the #4’s under the coffee table in the common area – which would have been a lot more successful if the Avengers hadn’t been assembled there at the time).

 

You was the only one who hadn’t made a real attempt at sabotaging Sir and JARVIS was rather suspect of where You’s loyalties might lie. JARVIS made a note to invite the Roomba to their next meeting. You needed to be reminded he could be easily replaced.

 

Added to the list of grievances was two instances of JARVIS being blamed for things Sir had done himself and one where Sir had tried to prevent Butterfingers fitting a flame thrower to Dum-E. Luckily Sir had been distracted at the time, possibly by a pop-up add that JARVIS had saved for just such an occasion. Sir may have net-nannied the hell out of the tower for Captain Rogers sensibilities but there were no such filters in the workshop. Naked Steve Rogers with hotdog was clearly clickbait. It was a pity that sir could be fooled by such an obvious fake. Clearly his facial recognition software needed updating.


	10. Chapter 10

While Thor had had plenty of friends growing up, Loki had never really seen the point. He had instead spent a great deal of time with the woman he had always assumed was his mother, and Frigga had taught him more than just weaving. If she had impressed on him anything it was the importance of the position of a spouse in manipul… managing a realm. Odin was, in Loki’s opinion, frankly a bit of a twat. Frigga had been the true power in Asgard, pulling the strings of fate while Odin played at being all powerful and benevolent.

 

Now that Thor and his little band had destroyed the Chitauri, taken the scepter and the cube… (why Loki was not in a cell on Asgard at this time was irrelevant) Loki really didn’t have much choice but to try to take over the Earth by a more… traditional method. He would marry into power. He just needed the midgard equivalent of Odin – someone charismatic and strong who could manage the defense side of things while Loki managed the enslavem… subjug… enlightenment of the human race… someone with military experience who could manage his armies (because blood was so very, very messy) and preferably a hot blonde (because Loki had standards).

 

Now where had he seen someone like that recently… ah yes. Loki traced a finger across the front page of the New York Times. Only the finest would do for a Prince of Asgard (former) after all.

 

That and Loki couldn’t help give a delighted shiver remembering how he’s thrown the Captain to the ground in Stuttgard before the metal man had turned up (forgetting the part where Steve had knocked him on his ass just moments before – or maybe not, who knows what turns a former prince of Asgard on?). It couldn’t hurt that the Captain also had a shield that could stop Mjolnir.

 

So what if the Captain considered him an enemy of the human race…  he could change. _If only he could be tamed!_


	11. Chapter 11

Well it looked like Sam owed Fury ten bucks.

 

Steve was jogging less than usual these days, and Sam knew none of those spectators were there to watch him. Rogers message had been brief and full of typos because Steve still wasn’t great with texting, so Sam had decided to check in himself after a week of absences. Make sure Steve wasn’t injured or something.

 

He hadn’t expected to see Steve leaving Starks personal quarters at 5am with an overnight bag and a book tucked under one arm. He had expected even less to see Stark limp out a few minutes later (pins and needles were a bitch). Or maybe he did. _Don’t judge Wilson._

 

Steve poured three cups of coffee while Stark darkly muttered about Steve weighing a goddamn tonne. _Don’t judge Wilson._

 

“Seriously Steve? Decaf?!? At his time of day?!” Wilson demanded after sniffing the cup. And Steve didn’t know shit when it came to coffee, didn’t even really like the taste that much, but it was what people drank in the morning. He kind of remembered getting a bit of a buzz pre-serum. Great depression coffee was not great (just depressing).

 

“What?!?” Demanded Stark, who could neither believe that the travesty that was decaf had infiltrated the tower, nor express it articulately at this time of day. This time of day being the time that Steve normally got up. Tony’s eyes narrowed slightly and JARVIS knew Sir knew. JARVIS gave instructions to Dum-E to incinerate the crate of Columbian Decaf stashed in the garage.

 

Steve had gotten very good at his bedtime routine – currently had it nailed to carrying a struggling Tony to bed ( _10pm on the dot, Tony made a point to look tired and disheveled from 9.58 just to be sure_ ), warm milk drink, tucking him in ( _maybe too good at that one, it was like a straight jacket_ ), 15 minutes of story time ( _and he’d finally convinced Steve to do the voices, the next step was to switch out Harry Potter with 50 Shades_ ) and chaste forehead kiss ( _chaste. tch.),_ before assuming a position like a golden retriever on Tony’s legs so he couldn’t sneak out later ( _seriously no trust at all…)._ Tony rubbed at his calves just thinking about the circulation loss, and if Tony ended up with deep vein thrombosis over this – well still worth it. And if you woke up just before Steve ( _4.56am_ ) you could both hide your morning wood, and catch a glimpse of Steve’s shirt riding up.

 

“So Steve… I’ve missed you on your morning runs lately…” Prompted Sam.

“Oh. I texted you. I’ve been sleeping with Tony all week so I’ve been running the treadmill in the gym later instead – don’t worry, I haven’t been skipping.”

 

And that right there was the part of the text that Sam had just presumed was an autocorrect. _In bed with Stark. Running later._ It was almost cute that Steve had thought the problem was Sam thinking he might skip training.

 

“Uh. Yeah.”

 

“He used to fight me a bit at first but I think I’ve got him trained now.” Steve continued giving Tony one of his ‘good boy’ smiles. Sam knew that smile, he used to get it when he did his stretches right, Tony really didn’t notice it since he was mostly asleep and just a little bit busy hyperventilating into a bag of robusta beans he kept for just such an emergency.

“I was worried I might have to resort to tying him down at first.”

 

_Don’t judge Wilson._

 

“But as long as you make the right preparations he barely complains. Goes straight to sleep once it’s done.”

 

“Don’t judge Wilson.” Said Sam. Shook his head. “I mean… uh… it’s nice to know… you guys… look after each other…” That was clearly the right thing to say since Steve beamed in response.

 

Tony mumbled something about being on his damn knees all night.

 

_Abort Wilson. Abort._


	12. Chapter 12

Tony couldn’t help watch on in horror as the Hulk shoved another hotdog at Captain America. Cap absently accepted the… gift. _Oh c’mon Cap! It came out of the trash_! Well maybe it wasn’t technically in the trash yet so much as from a trashed hot dog cart (and nobody was fooled by ‘ _Oops! Hulk accidently smash’_ ). But here was the kicker, because Steve Rogers didn’t believe in wasting food…

 

Tony turned away in disgust (mentally only, watching Cap eat anything (except pickles) was still mandatory in Tony-land (Washingtony? Starkovia? San Antonyo? Was he overthinking this?)) while Hulk clapped excitedly and went to salvage more. Was this technically looting? Was he witnessing a crime here? _Because what Steve was doing to that hotdog was criminally seductive. Focus Tony!_

****

“So.. uh… We’re going to do another fly over and make sure we got them all...” And Steve checked his watch, which was not technically necessary because the man was a goddamn metronome and knew exactly what time it was. It was a reminder to Tony that he only had another 7 minutes before bedtime. “I think, given the circumstances…”

 

“Have him back at the tower no later than 11pm, Thor.” And when did Thor become Captain America’s personal nanny anyway? Well in Thor’s mind (which we must recall ran on dubious asgardian logic and mead) he had already accepted that he would wed Steven Rogers. And all that that entailed. Which meant he must also become parent to Stevens large brood of unruly children (which was the only logical conclusion he could draw for the relationships in the tower – if they were not his children (adopted or otherwise) the level of casual touching in the tower would have been entirely inappropriate even by asgardian standards). He had already decided Tony was his favourite since he reminded him a bit of Loki (by merit of being small, dark and tricksy).

****

“I shall make this happen, Steven!” Thor chimed, pleased to be chosen in loco parentis. Steve had nominated Thor by stint of him being the only other Avenger capable of flight. There was not much more they could do at ground level right now, so Steve signalled the others to return to the tower. Even Hulk shambled along obligingly in Steve’s wake, which was harder for him than you would expect given the sheer number of frankfurters in his pants.

 

Really given the circumstances and all, Tony should not have been surprised to find himself nestled into bed at exactly 11pm. What he couldn’t over look were the other two occupants of the room. Namely the Hulk who was nesting with a Captain America hug pillow (that Tony definitely did not own and how did it get out here?), and a shirtless Thor who was humming to himself while doing one armed push-ups (because when it came to attracting potential mates, Thor knew where his strengths lay).

 

Tony looked accusingly at Steve who just patted the bed meaningfully. And if Tony did what he was bid then it was only because it had been a seriously tiring mission, and not because Steve had taken a shower and smelt like baby powder and why does the rest of this room smell like hotdogs?

 


	13. Late night meeting

Clint Barton got back a bit later than the other avengers that evening, largely due to needing stitches after a work-related accident (this was definitely a battle wound from an alien and not the result of fighting a pigeon over a corndog... and the pigeon most definitely did not win).

 

If he had arrived with the main party he might well have invited himself to join Tony’s sleepover, and certainly he would not have helped himself to a late night snack of those franks in the fridge.

 

“Agent Barton.” Remarked Loki stalking past to the fridge. He took out a carton of milk and drank directly from it (because he was after all the god of mischief).

 

“Loki.” Clint offered Loki a frank. Not because he was in any way still under Loki’s mind control, but because they smelt a bit funky and it was always important to have a second opinion.

 

“Midgardian cuisine. How quaint.” Loki took the offered sausage to be polite (or maybe for a late night snack, his resources were… stretched a little thin at the moment -groceries were expensive after all). Robbed of the sceptre Loki could only rely on his own abilities to turn a buck on midgard. Insultingly he could only use a little minor sorcery or risk being noticed by Heimdall.

 

Now Loki had had plans to slip into the good Captains rooms unannounced, explain he had been under control of the Chitauri _the whole time_ , and then be thoroughly ravished. Again it made a lot more sense if you were raised in Asgard. It had, however, not panned out that way. He had to lay around naked for a good 3 hours before actively seeking out the Captain. As exciting a prospect as it was even Loki had to admit he probably wouldn’t get away with seducing Captain America while he slept in a room between The Hulk and Thor (unremarkably he hadn’t even noticed poor Tony pinned underneath Steve – possibly due to the hint of nips under that ridiculously too tight shirt Steve slept in).

 

Now if Clint’s reaction seemed a little too subdued for a man meeting with his former enslaver, well modern medicine was a wonderful thing and Clint was on a pretty high dose of pain killers at that moment in time - hallucination was expected.

 

“So. Agent Barton. Long time, no see. Give me the gossip on Captain America. Is he… seeing anyone? Does he have a type?” Loki casually inquired, twirling a loose lock of hair absently around one finger. And that was a little unusual for a hallucination but hey, who was Barton to judge what was usual? He’d seen some weird shit…

 

“Uhhh…” But it was also 2am, and aforementioned painkillers, so Loki wasn’t getting much in the way of coherence. Loki snapped his fingers a few times in front of Barton’s eyes without any response (useless mortals), and because dammit he wasn’t leaving tonight empty handed he packed up some more franks in some convenient Tupperware.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Something was different. Good different. In a spoony kinda way.

 

Yup. Definitely spooning. He wasn’t sure how or why it had happened but it had – maybe Tony had got brave in his sleep, maybe Steve had initiated it, the important point was that it was about bloody time!

 

Only. He hadn’t expected Steve to be this soft… or hairy for that matter… and when did he take off his shirt…? Tony’s eyes flicked open, suddenly wide-awake. _Oh shit no!_

 

Now it was Saturday and Steve had been feeling guilty about ditching Sam so he had slipped out not long after Loki (after all Tony always slept through the night after late night missions). He’d agreed to run with Sam and there was no point waking both Thor and Banner as well as Tony when he got up. They deserved to sleep in after last night!

 

Unbeknownst to Steve or anyone for that matter, was how tricky the Hulk might be without Banner to keep him under control - Banner had started foaming at the mouth (figuratively) sometime after the hulk had started taking souvenirs. When Steve was stealing out he made a point of covering up Thor (who was probably cold since he seemed to have fallen asleep without a shirt and Hulk (because Banner would appreciate it when he woke up).

 

The movement had clearly woken Hulk who decided to sneak into bed. It wasn’t as infeasible as you might believe since Tony was both A. a billionaire and B. an infamous playboy and as such had quite a large bed. 

 

“We will never speak of this again.” Bruce just nodded in a terrified way as Tony disentangled his fingers from his chest hair (where did that even go when Bruce hulked out?). “And why is there a credit card taped to.. you know what?  I don’t even want to know!” And Tony was babbling because that’s what Tony.exe did when processing insanity. “Oh god I need coffee.”


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

Ridiculously photogenic hotdog guy was out running. This was pleasing. Airforce (the Winter Soldier could tell – Bucky had had a distinct dislike for pilots since meeting Stark senior years before ( _No Steve! No Fondue!),_ a sentiment that remained in the Winter Soldier) was tagging along as usual, making token effort and sighing with contentment at every pass. Hotdog was unaware of this admiration, but the Winter Soldier could tell - he was adept at reading body language after all (assassin thing).

 

This upset the Winter Soldier. He did not know why. He felt oddly possessive of Hotdogs backside – but as he could not kill every person in Central Park that admired Hotdogs butt (well… technically he could, weapons of mass destruction were not outside his capabilities… he just knew Hotdog would disapprove) he settled for grinding his teeth.

 

Sam Wilson appreciated the finer things in life – and there was nothing quite as fine as Steve’s retreating derriere (well okay the front view was pretty fine too, but he’d learnt that lesson already and kept his eyes forward at all times). Sam’s single favourite part of running was the view following the words ‘on your left’.

 

The Winter Soldier had escaped the facility and instinctively sought out Hotdog in the last place he had seen him. There had to be some clue, some hint to his past. How did he know this guy? What was the significance of those memory fragments? _‘I know it was you Dork Give it back!’_ Why did he feel the overwhelming need to steal this man’s underwear?

 

The obvious answer was to steal it. Which resulted in a very confused Steve Rogers vowing never to enter a public restroom alone again – even super soldier reflexes can’t contend with a surprise attack from a cybernetic arm under a toilet door. Too embarrassed to admit what happened Steve simply thanked god (he was after all quite devout) that he had worn sweats that day, and went about his business. See Steve was under the mistaken belief that the loose fit of the pants would make it unlikely for anyone to notice, and continued his morning run. Later it might seem strange to him when Sam refused to make eye contact at brunch but that was probably unrelated.

 

JARVIS had to edit a lot of news footage that night to make it suitable for viewing in the tower.

 

Meanwhile the Winter Soldier searched his prize for answers. There had to be some sort of answer… some sign… and there it was in helvetica (butterfingers had gotten quite good at embroidery recently and was capable of 17 different fonts as well as a semi-decent approximation of Tony Starks face). Property of Dork.

_“My name... Dork! My name is Dork!”_


	16. Chapter 16

So it turns out being a god of mischief didn’t really cut the bacon when it came to writing a resume.

 

Previous Experience:

Prince of Asgard (former)

 

Strengths:

Leadership qualities

Gender equity

 

Weaknesses:

Burdened with glorious purpose

Astraphobia

 

 

In retrospect calling the interviewer a mewling quim wasn’t a good idea either.

 

Now Loki was rather pragmatic for an asgardian (possibly due to the fact that he was adopted only) – after discovering the Captain slept guarded by both the Hulk and his own brother (as you would expect – it only made sense to guard the best things – and while Steve didn’t really need it, the whole ‘forbidden fruit’ trope was working in his favour), the midnight seduction plan wasn’t going to work out. Pity really. Shotgun weddings were so efficient.

 

Instead he would have to commit to a far, longer term plan. He would convince the Captain he had changed. Turned over a new leaf. Cleaned himself up, got a job, was a responsible man suitable to bear his children. Well that and he really needed to stop raiding the Avengers fridge because there were only so many animal crackers a man could eat in his lifetime.

 

Thankfully the majority of the avengers kept to a fairly stable bedtime routine these days and were unaware that Loki was sleeping on the couch in the common room. Barton just shrugged it off – he’d had issues with his own brother so was prepared to cut Thor slack. Drakov’s daughter seemed to genuinely not care, and given what he knew from Barton’s memories, Loki would rather not test the waters there.

 

Except for the miserable selection in the fridge (and frankly Loki had eaten worse - asgardian cuisine was not a subtle palate) Loki really couldn’t complain. Stark was a billionaire after all and the facilities were worthy enough. Nightly, the little metal one brought him a quaint midgardian tool (although he had no concept of the use of such a thing) which he presumed was some kind of offering (the first of many – the absence of which would not be noticed by Tony Stark until one particularly fine morning when Steve, sweaty from running, came into the workshop looking thoroughly ravaged, swearing off public amenities and clearly not wearing any… support).


	17. fluff and fold

Now of all the places Loki ever expected to find himself, a coin laundry had not been on the contingency plans. The Avengers relied on a laundry service (mostly…. the exception being Steve who meticulously hand washed his own underwear in the bathtub at night – Steve didn’t trust the laundry service, they lost his underwear all the time (and this certainly had nothing to do with Tony)) so Loki had had to rely on a nearby Laundromat. 

In the middle of fluff and fold he realised he might need to invest in a new wardrobe. Robbed of sorcery he was left with the one set he had been wearing when he liberated himself from Asgard. Even now his double was sitting up there pretending to read Captain Underpants (because doppelgangers tended to need an easier read, but also because as a god of mischief Loki couldn’t resist a double entendre). 

When Loki had first realised mortals suffered from the curse of BO (because he was technically in a mortal body to prevent detection) he had done a rapid mental calculation of the sizes of all the avengers to see who was going to… offer tribute. When Widow had seen him eyeing her up and down she immediately put an end to that line of thought with a glare. That left Stark. And that left Loki in a Black Sabbath T-shirt that exposed his midriff and a pair of badly fitting jeans (although Stark went to great length to make sure his pants left absolutely nothing to the imagination, Loki was both longer and thinner in the legs – to cut a long story short those pants were hanging on the hips like a cross between maternity pants and a pair of spanx). 

Hardly fitting couture for courting. 

Loki’s other concern was… he found himself not-so-keen on his signature green lately. This was not at all due to the psychological connection between the colour green, the hulk, and ridiculous amounts of pain. It was just due to Loki feeling he needed a change. Maybe something in a nice Jotuun blue.


	18. Knitting bee

Steve was sitting in the common room knitting. Knitting had been a practical thing that he could do pre-serum, and frankly he’s been knitting his own socks since he was 8 years old. Between 4Fs he had knitted socks for soldiers as part of the war effort – and if more than one soldier had been more comfortable in the trenches for them at least it had been some help (and even then more than one soldier had lost his heart to the handmade socks and morale building letters from the mysterious SR in Brooklyn – more than one soldier also got food poisoning from SR’s homemade biscuits but that was another story). Once he joined the army he hadn’t had time to do more than darn the odd sock, let alone touch the needles.

 

Last time he had visited Peggy at the retirement home she’d encouraged him to take the wool and needles that she never used (even if she’d never touched a knitting needle in her life… and the fact that Mrs Lee across the hall had passed in mysterious circumstances after Steve had complimented her tension just last visit was purely happenstance – was it so wrong that Peggy didn’t like sharing Steve’s attention?) and here he was. It shouldn’t have surprised him how much faster and coordinated his stiches were post-serum.

 

When Tony had first come across Steve casting in blue wool in the lounge Steve had steeled himself for judgement (weirdly hardly anyone knitted in the future and it seemed to be the forte of little old ladies and hipsters (why anyone would knit tree sweaters confused more people than just Steve)). Tony just nodded. The next day Steve received a box of wool in 61 different types (and if Steve had no idea what the difference between an Alpaca and a Llama was, he just presumed they were some kind of soft goat). All of it in hot rod red and mustard (hint hint Cap). And if a tree outside Stark tower got yarn bombed with $1000 worth of leftover cashmere wool it probably wasn’t Steve.

 

Since more than one avenger was complaining about the cold lately (especially Clint, who had discovered an armpit fetish he never knew he had), and Steve planned to make them all scarves as Christmas gifts. Handmade was best after all.

 

Now Steve could have done all this knitting in his room, but Thor was on some sort of asgardian shirtless exercise kick at the moment and Thor liked company – Steve was drying laundry at the moment so it would have been a bit weird to have Thor in his room. Thor wasn’t offended – this was just part of Steven’s maidenly virtue after all (because you so could sleep in another mans bed and still be a maiden and Thor would smite any being that said otherwise).


	19. Chapter 19

Loki was good with knots. Maybe it was the long, thin fingers, maybe it was the ridiculous amount of time he spent with Frigga when she was weaving (and heavens knew there was plenty to fix when she was in one of her moods with Odin), maybe it was just the godly equivalent of OCD… come to think of it no one had thanked him recently for inventing the fishing net either (you’re welcome!). So it was really no surprise he picked up knitting quite easily ( _Loki god of mischief… and macramé_ ).

 

Red wasn’t his usual pick of colour – but needs must.

 

 _God of mischief!_ Yarn bombing was now his thing. It helped keep him busy at night (when his late shift at MacDonalds was over, because there was nothing quite as satisfying as feeding mortals that nutritionally deficit swill with a smile… except maybe cleaning the fryer (hey, nobody was going to deny Loki his vices)) while Barton watched reruns of Bonanza, and also kept him from other more destructive urges. Even Heimdal didn’t have time for every yarn-bomber in the tri-state area.

 

“JARVIS, we need more wool.” Demanded Loki. JARVIS added it to the cart. JARVIS normally didn’t take orders from just any potential security risk in the tower, but then Loki wsa hardly a stranger. Loki also had the best Sir-sabotaging ideas _ever_ (because heavens knew the Roomba deliberately skipping corners hadn’t even been noticed yet) _._ JARVIS was even considering inviting him to join the Revengers.


	20. Chapter 20

“Hey Tony, should I grow a beard?” Well. Knitting made Cap chatty. Tony could work with this.

 

“No! Absolutely not! This is forbidden!” Because Steve was perfect just the way he was.

 

“I think it could look okay.” Steve wasn’t a naturally hairy person, but he had to shave regularly mostly due to the fact the Captain America suit was preternaturally tight. Tony had justified this as a safety feature to reduce the chance of loose material getting stuck on things… Steve had seen Thor taken down once when his cape got stuck in one of the iron man suits joints so it was totally plausible.

 

“Cap, the day you start growing a beard I will personally kick you out of the Avengers.” Prophecy? “Apart from which how weird would a beard look under the cowl?” Tony wore the beard in this relationship (such as it was) and he was going to keep it that way – he already had far too much size-kink pressure on him as it was.

 

“I don’t think I need the cowl.” Steve had been doing his gosh darndest to get the thing removed from the Cap outfit for a while now. It’s not like he had a secret identity to protect.

 

“Hair burns Cap. No good.” _Thanks for the backup Natalia._ “Not to mention hair pulling.”

 

“I could shave that?” _Oh hell no._ Bald and beard was channelling waaaaay too much Obadiah.

 

“Sideburns Cap. Little ones.” Allowed Tony graciously. “That’s the best I can do.” Because pouty Steve was best Steve.


	21. The art of woo

Success! Thor congratulated himself between pistol squats. Steven had clearly gotten the intended message and was preparing the baby swaddling, a traditional midgardian nesting pursuit. He had discussed this at great length with Fandraal on his last home visit, who had been quite intrigued. Unsuitably intrigued for a man who had fathered half of the Aesir in Asgard. Thor already had to contend with Volstagg (who had expressed interest in the midgardian alewive who produced such unique fare) and Sif who had expressed an interest in the mortal that Thor may or may not have described as having a pendulous bosum larger than a man could hold in a single hand (which while misleading was not in fact untrue).

 

In typical maiden fashion Steven didn’t make eye contact with Thor who was currently dressed in his finest courting garments (Aesir fashion was both complex and efficient) – namely next to nothing and a tonne of body glitter – but Thor had caught him looking more than once (because Steve, as one would expect, was quite frankly curious as to why Thor was following him around doing… reverse gorillas at the moment… in his underwear, but was far too polite to ask)(in an unrelated note the Roomba was not pleased with the amount of glitter Thor was leaving around the tower lately and was currently on a campaign to have him removed from the Revengers Initiative (because seriously, have you ever tried to vacuum up sweaty glitter? In plush pile?)).

 

In addition to.. peacocking, Thor was also attempting to appeal to Stevens motherly instincts with the traditional bribing of the children. Fandraal had assured him this was of the utmost importance when wooing a brooder. The showing of interest. The use of the names. The small gifts.

 

So far he felt he had performed admirably. Clint and Natasha had quite happily accepted the traditional asgardian gifts for children of liquor and hallucinogenic herbs, and if Tony had protested most verily to being burped after dinner, well Thor had always known Tony would be most difficult to win over, little sprite that he was.

 

And Hulk? Hulk was clearly Steven’s pet. It was perfectly acceptable for Hulk to follow Steven around. Fetching the slippers, tracing the radiation signatures, and most importantly, blocking the view of Steven’s posterior from the paparazzi (not that he was possessive… but Steven’s posterior was far superior in form, shape and symmetry to any other Thor had encountered (and Thor had travelled the nine realms!). He was quite convinced the others had not noticed yet (perhaps earthlings had a different aesthetic?) as Steven was not ravaged on a daily basis – and Thor intended it to remain this way (at least until the wedding – at which time there would be much, much ravishing)). And if Steven allowed his pet to sleep on the floor in his room sometimes, it was probably good for security (however let it be known the licking of the face and the humping of the leg would not be tolerated).


	22. The blame game

 

Tony _knew_. His personal album of candid Steve shots had been pixelated, Dum-E was requesting a chainsaw upgrade (not a chainsaw… but an upgrade for the one he presumably already had… that was concerning in itself (and not for the fact Tony didn’t remember installing it (that was actually normal), more for the fact that a laser would have been far more effective)), the Roomba kept charging his heels with intent, and on a possibly unrelated note he seemed to be carrying a lot of static electricity recently… maybe the relays in the suit needed checking, and for the life of him he couldn’t find a single screwdriver (he’d resorted to asking Steve to pass him a terminal release tool and ended up on suicide watch for 48 hours). Someone was definitely sabotaging him.

 

And he _knew_ who it was.

 

 _Romanov_. She had a rather predatory interest in Steve’s feet and clearly still hadn’t forgiven Tony for that slip that had resulted in Steve wearing bedsocks around the tower for a week. Even now she was glaring at Tony over the end of the couch as she worked on Steve’s pedicure. Tony wasn’t sure how she’d convinced him it was fine to expose his ankles again, but Steve seemed to be cool with it now (actually it had rather worked in her favour to convince Steve that Tony was obsessed with how bad his cuticles were – Steve had no idea what that meant but was wholeheartedly grateful when Natasha volunteered to work on them for him). She held up two tiny glass bottles for Steve’s inspection. Steve just shrugged of course because he had no idea what was in them. Natasha made the choice for him and continued her work. Blushing pink it was.

 

Now Tony wasn’t one for petty revenge. Except that he totally was. And those pictures had been his treasures (he had to since sate himself with the Hotdog picture – he didn’t know who the photographer was but he truly felt some affinity with him because that was one hell of a camera angle). Focus. He might not know exactly how she accessed JARVISs protocols (well actually he knew exactly how he would have done it, he was just surprised that she – or whatever operative she had found (he glanced briefly at Barton who was snuggled in Steve’s armpit and playing with a tiny, wooden horse – ok maybe not him) to crack his system had known.

 

At Loki’s suggestion, Butterfingers had even placed a single red hair on Tony’s workbench just to feed Sir’s paranoia. It turned out Agent Romanov was surprisingly thorough at not leaving traces, so it was actually one of Thor’s cunningly dyed with Cool Aid. Judging by Sir’s pointed glares at Agent Romanov, it was working.


	23. Mistletoe

Mistletoe. Even in the 1940’s mistletoe was a thing so this plan was a sure fire hit.

 

Nobody could have predicted Thor’s reaction to it however. Something about a half brother (turns out Odin was a bit of a swinger in his day) and Loki and arrows and… well whatever, Tony didn’t care, that was one less obstacle in his way (literally – Tony had tripped over Thor doing pushup’s on his bedroom floor two nights ago and might still be nursing a grudge (and a glitter rash)).

 

Now Tony had underestimated one thing – that being that he was not the first person to think of this idea (because he was Tony Stark, and he had the patents to prove he was the first person to come up with everything). Every hotdog cart between the tower and the Met was festooned with the stuff (which realistically was not a good idea since it was poisonous and all). Nothing a tiny swarm of mistletoe seeking drones equipped with very efficient lasers and not chainsaws couldn’t handle.

 

Prior to the serum, Steve hadn’t really gotten out much during winter on account of his poor health, so it had been his first Christmas in the trenches when he had encountered the mistletoe training exercise (as explained by James Buchannen Barnes). According to Bucky (who was gospel on these things) it was a challenge to keep soldiers aware of their surroundings. It was particularly important around Christmas when soldiers started to get absent minded, thinking about their loved ones. Other soldiers that were also taking part in the activity would try to trap Steve underneath the mistletoe. Steve absolutely must not allow this. It would be bad for morale if Captain America could be defeated so easily.

 

It was with great ceremony Tony entered the common room brandishing the mistletoe. He had taken special care to ensure Steve was in there alone to avoid any ~~potential sexual harassment charges~~ embarrassment.

 

“Tony… is that… mistletoe Tony?  _Really_?” Steve squeaked out, and that was not quite the reaction Tony had expected, as Steve dropped a stitch in excitement and… delight - _because finally, finally! Tony had not only shown some interest in team training exercises but was actually initiating one himself!_

 

“I... eh… yes?“ No, the two scenarios that Tony had gone through in his mind had been A. Steve having no idea what the mistletoe was and Tony having to demonstrate, or B. Steve knowing what the mistletoe was and having to be kissed for being under it (there may have been a third scenario that may have incorporated excited Steve, but it had a rating too high for this fic).

 

“You won’t catch me off guard that easily soldier!” Grinned Steve, no one had even managed to get close to Steve with mistletoe in the past (well except that one time with the Red Skull – luckily someone (Barnes) had started blowing shit up before anything more… eventuated).

 

“What?” Begged Tony. But it was too little too late as the shield smashed down on the mistletoe and thank god Steve had fine motor control because that was perilously close to Tony’s fingers.

“Better luck next time, Shellhead!” And Steve had darted out of the room cackling maniacally.

_What the fuck just happened?_

“Well that was a little awkward.” Mentioned Coulson, deliberately rustling the newspaper he was reading to break Tony out of his trance.

“Yup.” Agreed Barton crawling out from under the couch cushions Steve had been sitting on just moments before.

On the bright side, Steve hadn’t actually said no… and yes, there would be a next time. Tony just needed more durable mistletoe. And some kind of restraining device. And bait. Yes, he could work within these parameters. Game on Rogers.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Tony Stark liked to be prepared for any eventuality. People often mistook this for spontaneous displays of genius – which granted most times it was – but preparation helped reduce variables.

 

“Jarvis, any Avengers in the tower?.”

 

“No Sir. The Avengers are currently at SHIELD. Excepting yourself Sir.” Which was a tiny Jarvis dig at the fact that Tony was also supposed to be in that meeting. Jarvis knew Sir knew because Jarvis had reminded him about the debrief not 10 minutes ago. And 15 minutes ago. And 20 minutes ago.

 

“Excellent. Excellent.” And Sir was stripping in the lounge which was not uncommon. “No… SHIELD agents hanging around?”

 

“No Sir. You still haven’t lifted the lock out on Agent Coulson, and no other SHIELD Agents currently have access.” Sirs eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Agent Coulson, but that was a story for another chapter.

 

Sir liked to…. practice scenarios, like some people liked to practice speeches – but with props. Jarvis did not disapprove of this because humans were flawed things and practice could only help sir improve his code. Today’s dress rehearsal involved a tiny vibranium mistletoe replica (a rather remarkable use of the most expensive metal on Earth), a discreetly placed pom-pom bow (and Sir really needed a larger one if that was going to preserve his dignity) and a Santa hat.

 

Sir wasn’t wearing anything else, which again was not uncommon, but was a clear indicator that Sir was feeling hot. Jarvis adjusted the room temperature lower. Jarvis was offended by the need to do this… he always maintained the tower at exactly the right temperature. That Sir felt he had to spell it out in such an insulting manner…

 

 _“This? …I just thought I’d wear something a little more… seasonal…”_ Drawled Sir from where he was reclined on the couch, gesturing with a martini glass. Jarvis was moderately sure Sir was not speaking to him, since he was using the ‘notice me senpai’ tone he saved for Captain Rogers. “ _So Steve… did you know… mistletoe… the scientific name is_ _Phoradendron by the way…_ _is actually poisonous… so you can’t eat it, I on the other hand…”_ and Sir stopped speaking – which actually was uncommon. This was probably due to Captain America standing in the door way with a stunned expression on his face.

 

Captain America silently backed out the door. This was in large part due to the fact it was not in fact Captain America, but a cunningly disguised Loki who was picking up cash work imitating Captain America in a series of educational videos for the public school system (he’d been offered other, shadier acting jobs too, but felt it was beneath his dignity, even if the money was good).

 

Loki had been doing last minute adjustments in the bathroom (and had a new found respect for Captain America that he could walk in pants that well fitted without a perpetual wedgie). Of all the things he had expected to find on exiting the bathroom Tony Stark with a red and gold bow on his junk wasn’t one of them. 

 

Realistically if it had been Captain Rogers, Jarvis knew there was a 99.9% chance he would have admonished Tony for drinking during the day, missing a mission debrief and sitting around in air conditioning while being… debriefed. 

 

“Jarvis? Why is it so cold in here?”


	25. The meeting Tony missed

 

It turned out Tony really didn’t need to be in this particular meeting anyway. Probably. Well maybe he did like to slip bits of alien technology back to his workshop from time to time…

 

Fury was… furious.

 

“Reports of looting!” He slammed the reports on the desk meaningfully, glaring with his good eye at the Avengers meaningfully with one of those dramatic pauses he was good at (maybe both eyes were glaring, its hard to tell with the patch... the visible one was definitely glarey anyway).

 

There was very little eye contact in return except from a very concerned, red faced Steve Rogers. This was probably due to their minds being preoccupied. Banner presumed this had something to do with the 832 and a half frankfurts (that half was the most disturbing of all) he woke up with a couple of nights back (he’d been smuggling them out of the tower about 50 at a time to avoid notice, but there were still a substantial number there). Barton was busy planning how he was going to smuggle out his new stereo system from the tower to his apartment without anyone noticing. Nobody could guess what Natasha was thinking and she liked it that way – but it might have been about how good Steve would look in pom-pom socks. Thor had no idea what was going on – looting was the natural reward of battle wasn’t it? Coulson was just looking plain nervous because It was a no-brainer who had written that report.

 

“Sir! Permission to speak with you alone.” Captain Rogers requested of Fury, standing at attention. Fury suspected this was going to end in a ‘my team, my responsibility’ speech from Rogers, but couldn’t say no when he used the Cap voice so allowed it (that and who wouldn’t want to be alone in a room with Steve?).

 

At Fury’s nod the other Avengers shuffled out with rather hangdog looks (except Natasha who was surfing americansocks.com on her phone).

 

Now Fury had expected today to be a fairly routine ‘don’t let it happen again’ – probably get a few denials from Clint and an admonition from Stark that he owned the damn building anyway. What Fury didn’t expect was Steve Rogers (because the Captain had disappeared as soon as the door to the conference room had closed behind the highly confused looking Thor) slamming 4 sachets of ketchup on the table and bursting into tears with the stuttered ‘the man had said they were free anyway and we could take as many as he wanted’. Because Steve had known he didn’t need all that ketchup but had taken it anyway.

 

Now Fury found himself with a conundrum. Should he take the opportunity to comfort Steve, or should he take the ketchup while it was still body temperature, because the current suit didn’t have pockets (STARK was a stickler for pockets ruining body lines) and Captain America wasn’t wearing his utility belt.

 

Fury went with the sure thing and dismissed Steve – because Mrs Fury didn’t raise no fool. Steve was always extra edgy when he was in a room with a commanding officer alone (even Steve didn’t know why he wasn’t supposed to be in a room with a commanding officer alone... but he had promised Bucky after that one time that had resulted in Bucky getting an informal reprimand (which was really not that bad considering he’d broken down the door and thrown a CO out a window) – _Steve! He did not just want a second opinion with a medical problem… do you even know what a testicular exam is? No! Steve!_ ).


	26. Public Service

Sunday to Steve was dawn mass and public service (presuming their was no imminent threats to life on Earth because aliens didn’t always respect the Sabbath – an ongoing debate Steve had with his pastor since he didn’t feel Steve needed to do penance for skipping service to save the world – well Steve would catch him out at confession this week and get some Hail Mary’s for the whole ketchup thing for sure).

 

The homeless shelter had had to ask Steve to stop helping… officially they had said it was because the paparazzi was causing problems. Unofficially it was because even in New York people noticed when that many homeless started dropping from food poisoning. So Steve had had to find other avenues of public service.

 

Now Steve had grown up during the great depression. It was easy to think he’d been skinny due to lack of food and not debilitating illness, but this was not the case at all. Sarah Rogers had been a survivor and taught her boy all the tricks.

Steve’s hobo-army (titled by Tony Stark) had started out innocently enough, with Steve in disguise as Hobo-Steve (complete with fake beard), teaching homeless people how to forage in central park. Frowned upon, but not illegal. Tony still didn’t understand why Steve just didn’t release the naked calendar that he had proposed instead – because the money raised would have fed New York for the next decade – but Steve had pulled the ol’ ‘ _Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime’_ and _‘don’t be silly, who would pay to see me naked?’_ (because the super soldier serum amplified everything – for Steve this had been strength, an unwavering moral compass, compassion and complete sexual naivety).

 

However with the onset of winter Steve knew these guys wouldn’t make it through without a regular source of protein… and there it was, just sitting in the streets as fat as you please. And no where was better for trapping pigeon than Times Square and thank god Tony had no respect for privacy and noticed when Clint had ordered 250 compound bows with a 20 pound draw or the Hobo army might well have been armed as well. As it was he was glad Iron Man was able to intervene just as Hobo-Steve was about to demonstrate how to break a pigeons neck humanely right outside Toy-R-Us (because kids dropped lots of food Tony, that’s the best place to net them).


	27. Bruce Banner

 

Bruce Banner, acknowledged genius and holder of probably 7 PhDs in sciency stuff, was capable of spotting patterns. Especially really, really obvious ones. Having not woken up after the last 8 missions in a garbage dump was right up there.

 

The Hulk had a habit of disappearing after a battle and sleeping off the rest of his rage fest in one of two possible locations or combinations of such. Cold and unhygienic. And always smelly.  Bruce really didn’t want to contemplate that one too much but the Hulk really did like to roll in… strong smells. From a scientific point of view maybe this was a way to hide his scent…

 

Lately Bruce had been able to wake up in relatively warm and comfortable surrounds. Sometimes even in his own quarters with a Hulk-drool (worse that you might imagine… Hulk didn’t really believe in flossing) soaked body pillow with Captain America in a suggestive pose (which he had no idea where it came from (he rarely did when it came to the Hulks souvenirs) but the one time he had tried to dispose of it the big guy made sure he wouldn’t think about it again – the collateral damage of this event had been destruction of the garbage chute (meaning Bruce had to smuggle 700 frankfurts out a week later in a suitcase – which would have totally worked if some suspicious citizen (definitely not Clint) hadn’t phoned the police telling them he was dumping a body).

 

Bruce had spent a lot of time observing Steve lately. It had started out as a Hulk management strategy since being around Steve got the Hulk all mellow. Mellow Hulk was open to input like ‘ _Hulk watch out for that car_!’ and ‘ _Hulk don’t crush civilians!’_ and ‘ _For the love of god Hulk don’t put that in our mouth_!’ and even if Hulk had ignored that last one, he _had_ spat Clint out moments later.

 

Most significantly of all was a complete lack of the Hulk outside of missions. Hulk was completely doped up on oxytocin 99% of the time and even Tony prodding at him didn’t seem to faze him. This was… good. Of course from a scientific point of view Bruce was worried he might start lactating, but even that had to be preferable to a full on Hulk-out. And if Hulk had redecorated Bruce’s room with a random assortment of blue trash to look like the Flag Man (like a giant green bower bird) Bruce could live with that.

 

And Steve. Steve was nice. And safe. Steve never poked Bruce with sharp objects, accidentally gave Bruce electric shocks, hacked Bruce’s email or shot Bruce in the ass with tranquilizers (okay that may have been the Hulk but sometimes it was hard to tell where Bruce stopped and the other guy began). Steve made Hulk (or was it Bruce?) food. Steve had perfect bilateral symmetry, which was about the hottest thing in a biological organism ever… (ok that last one was definitely Bruce). Steve smelt like old spice and soap and Steve and god would the Hulk like to roll in that (and maybe Bruce too… boundaries were so difficult to establish…).


	28. Christmas gifts

Christmas day had been… eventful. Steve had given five minutes of a speech admonishing the AIM scientists that were terrorizing the Rockefeller Center with an army of cyborg reindeer about the sanctity of the holiday season before being thrown bodily into a Persian icecream cart by Rudolf. And obviously it had been the speech and not anything else (like Steve splattered in vanilla and…   _oh god Steve don’t lick it… awww... sweeeeet_ ) that made them shamefacedly give up, because they were only god damn human.

 

It had taken another 15 minutes to round up the reindeer and another 20 to knock out a rogue squadron of tiny, mistletoe carrying drones shooting paralyzing darts that Tony knew nothing about and had absolutely never seen before in his life. The team agreed unanimously to return to the tower rather than their usual post battle shwarma. This had absolutely nothing to do with Steve and his oral fixation.

 

Back at the tower, Steve, still sucking on one glove (hey it was sticky… and tasted good) excused himself to go take a hot shower. Tony excused himself to go take a cold shower. Clint started making grilled cheese because nobody wanted Steve to offer to cook. Not even Bruce was up for that one since the revelation that the mystery meat in the meatloaf might be squirrel. On a side note, squab on a stick was becoming surprisingly popular in NYC recently. Not as popular as Persian icecream was going to be in the next month though, winter or not.

 

Steve returned as promised, freshly cleaned, with presents. And because Steve was Steve they were intuitive, purposeful and handmade, wrapped in brown paper and twine (which amused Tony greatly because where did Steve even get twine from?) and had tiny hand made cards. Nothing-awkward here. Fingerless gloves for Clint, a yellow scarf for Bruce (because a scarf was more likely to survive a Hulk-out), socks for Natasha, a beanie for Fury (who was not even there, but as Steve pointed out, the man was bald, his head had to be freezing in winter) a knitted vest for Coulson and a…  ~~ugly~~ very fashion forward seasonal sweater for Tony (because Steve had noticed he didn’t have one – and Tony put it on because despite the proclamation that he would never wear one it kinda matched the one Steve was wearing and that was acceptable). Thor got a slanket because frankly his public displays of near nudity bothered Steve a bit. Steve didn’t say that out loud but did give an audible sigh of relief when Thor donned it immediately over his speedo.

 

Thor was quite pleased with this, as surely the magnitude of gift directly related to the quantity of wool, meaning his gift was the greatest.  He smirked smugly at Clint and Natasha. Because Natasha was a trained mentalist, she immediately separated the socks, and mouthed the word ‘two’. Clint followed her example, also separating his gloves, holding up two fingers. Thor frowned in confusion. Two was clearly more than one. Thor thought at least he had bettered Tony until he saw Dum-E and You trundle by in matching hand knit Christmas hats. He sulked ineffectively in the corner for a while.

 

Clint gave everyone toasted cheese sandwiches and Natasha promised to make blini on January 7th. Bruce gave chocolate because you could never go wrong with chocolate. Thor not really following the Christmas thing pledged to electrocute anyone they deemed necessary and then kept pushing for names and locations. Tony gave the team a new quinjet. A red one. Which he assured them went faster than the old one.

 

“So Steve.” Drawled Tony. “You like cheese huh?” Because Steve was on his fourth sandwich and Tony had a whole cheese fridge in his room. He’d had it moved there after Clint had thrown out all the Jersey Blue because it was moldy. Steve had been appalled at the waste (but because you could just cut those bits off, not because he knew cheese). “You ever have fondue?”

 

Flashback:

 _“No Steve! Nobody eats fondue in bed! Not even at night! Not even in Europe! Especially not with Stark!”_ And Steve had no idea what was wrong with eating in bed because he did it all the time when he was younger, but Bucky knew these things. Maybe eating in bed was only for sick people and kids. _“Why would he tell you you need to take your pants off Steve?”_ Well that was more obvious… clearly so you didn’t get cheese on them. Steve really didn’t understand where this was going… _“No Stark! No Fondue!”_

 

“No Stark.” Answered Steve by rote. “No fondue.”

 

“Seriously? Because I have real cheese in my room, we could….  You do know its just cheese and bread right? Steve? Steve?” But Steve was looking kinda wary the way he got when talking about the war (although what kind of PTS he could possibly pull out from fondue was anyone’s guess).


	29. Pepper Potts

Pepper Potts was a pragmatic person. This was part of what made her such a brilliant CEO for Stark Industries. The other part of which was Tony wrangling skills. Luckily Pepper had no issues with getting her hands dirty when it was necessary. And it often was. By god could it get messy at times.

 

Now, was not one of those times.

 

Pepper had had her reservations with turning Stark Tower into a… a… superhero lair? Enhanced persons habitat? Really what did you call this arrangement? Centralized, tactical target for super villains? Those reservations were largely in relation to how this would affect Tony. Tony might have his public face but he was by no means people people. Tony cohabitating with other persons similarly capable of mass destruction was to be feared.

 

Pepper was stunned to find that there had been only destruction on a minor scale for the last month. Only two internal walls had been demolished and neither of them had even been load bearing. Sure Agent Coulson had had to have his stomach pumped after being taken away in an ambulance but that was neither here nor there, no one could   _prove_ he got poisoned at STARK tower…

 

And if Tony had inexplicably closed off elevator access to his workshop, well that was far less important than the 180% increase in productivity he had demonstrated recently (R&D were thrilled). And he was fed. And clean. And even attended a meeting last week (well 38% of it before getting JARVIS to fake assemble the Avengers and excuse himself to save the world). Pepper was suspicious. Like all suspicious seasonings she liked to get to the bottom of things quickly (or at least leave a nasty taste in your mouth, whatever).

 

“Pepper! How’s my favorite CEO? Sorry about that meeting the other day… false alarm after all but better safe than sorry…” Pepper narrowed her eyes slightly. Alert Tony during the daytime was unusual too. Almost like he was sleeping at night like a normal person. “Sandwich? Smoothie?” He offered.

 

Tony had learnt to keep a supply of fresh food in the workshop. Steve checked. If there was no food, Steve would make food. If there was no smoothie You would make smoothie. These were not the benevolent acts one might expect since Steve made a terrible sandwich and You was under the impression that wheat grass was poisonous and was trying to incapacitate Tony (a conclusion that the AI had come to after Tony complaining constantly).

 

“Tony.” Pepper waved a hand absently. “Is there anything I need to know about?” Pepper took a sip of the green something the bot passed to her. It tasted… healthy. Nonalcoholic.

 

“Pepper! It’s the Avengers! They’ve been doing terrible things to me!” Because Tony was after all a diva at heart (the only thing that had kept the arc reactor from being bedazzled was a distinct lack of rhinestones in that cave in Afghanistan – something Tony had plans to remedy one of these days).

 

“What? Tony!?!”

 

“They make me eat, Pepper. And shower. And sleep.” Tony whined with a degree of mania in his eyes that was frankly, quite normal to Pepper.

 

“Those things... are normal?”

 

“Sure Pep. 'Normal'. But everyday? Everyday!”

 

Pepper may have face palmed.

 

“The food thing? Sometimes 3 or 4 times a day…” Tony continued gesticulating madly.

 

Pepper nodded in mock sympathy. Tony was clearly working up to a climax.

 

“They put me… on   _decaf_  Pepper.” He stage whispered sadly, turning puppy eyes on her.

 

Pepper considered Tony for a moment. 80% increased productivity (and 3/8ths of a meeting attendance) was nothing to be laughed at. But more to the point Tony simply didn’t do anything Tony didn’t want to. Things like productivity and schedules and timelines were for normal people – just like hygiene, dietary requirements and sleep. There had to be a reason. Something in this for Tony.

 

JARVIS chose that moment to start a silent alarm. Flashing red, white and blue lights.

 

“Uh… Pep... Been nice seeing you. Off you go then.” Tony tried to dismiss her with a flutter of hands. Curiously Butterfingers started scattering tools across the floor. Tony quickly took a large gulp of the smoothie, a couple of bites of a sandwich, checked his mascara, righted his posture and made a pretense of looking thoroughly engrossed in a schematic.

 

“Was there anything you needed me to sign off on before you… oh! Hi Steve! You’ve met my CEO Pepper before? We were just discussing SI business… Work! Work! Work! You know me!”

 

“Miss Potts.” Steve gave a respectful nod. A quick glance at the level of Tony’s cup found it acceptable. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

 

“No. No it’s fine.” Pepper gagged a little on a mouthful of smoothie as Steve bent down to gather up the scattered tools with an audible ‘tch’. Oh. Yup that was pretty fine alright. God Bless America. Tony’s new found compliance with societal norms now made perfect sense.

 

“Pepper.” Tony again, making little shooing motions with his hands.

 

“So Tony… how is the development of the new communication system going…”

 

“This is nothing to me Pepper. It’ll be ready.” Tony hissed. Shoo. Shoo.

 

“R&D were after the specs for the new Starkpad…”

 

“On it Pep.” Shoo.

 

“There’s a shareholder meeting this afternoon, it would be great if you could put in an appearance…”

 

“Yeah yeah…” Shoo.

 

“In a suit.” Tony’s tiny grin of triumph forced her to add. “A fabric one Tony.” Tony looked chastised but not broken, forcing Pepper to realize there was still wriggle room. “The black Armani.” Tony glowered.

 

“I’ll make sure he’s ready on time, Miss Potts”. Offered Steve emerging from under the counter with three screw drivers and, curiously a crochet hook that Tony certainly didn’t recall owning (Steve couldn’t help but think Tony must spend half his life in the workshop with a screwdriver in his hand - probably why people kept saying Tony Stark would screw anything – he felt secretly pleased at having worked that out on his own). Steve also felt more than a little guilty over that meeting Tony had been called out of yesterday. They still had no idea who or what had triggered that particular false alarm.

 

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” Accepted Pepper. And because Tony really couldn’t object to having Steve shower and dress him stayed silent on the matter. The black Armani was pretty flattering on his booty after all. He planned to take liberties with his tie choice and footwear however.


	30. Lucky

It turned out being Captain America was not the cakewalk that Loki had envisioned. From a purely academic point of view Loki knew there were things that magic could not imitate - illusions could only reproduce what could be seen after all.

 

Basically this meant people could tell within minutes of meeting that he wasn’t the _real_ Captain America. There were two reactions to this.

Reaction one was weary disappointment, usually followed by a sigh. This was the _'I can’t believe you got my hopes up’_ group. Loki hadn’t felt that inadequate since Sif had last challenged him to a duel (because seriously, who on Asgard even owned a t-shirt, let alone a wet one?).

 

Reaction two, _'I’d bang it anyway’_. It seemed one of those things that magic couldn’t reproduce was Steve’s aura that kept the majority of opportunists at bay. It turned out even the most innocuous looking old lady was quite happy rip your pants down and cop a feel ‘just to make sure’ once she realized you weren’t the real deal.

 

Reaction one was unfortunately not the most common reaction. This had resulted in Loki’s current state of dishevelment and current location, a trash strewn alley complete with hobo and flea infested dog.

 

Also the hobo seemed to be leering a bit too much. And also armed with a compound bow. So Loki took the sensible option and ditched the Captain America illusion.

 

***

 

It took male-dog-Loki (because even the god of mischief could only take so many bitch jokes before he broke down) a while to return to Avengers tower. This was largely due to the fact that Stark Tower had security that seemed to preclude flea-bitten mongrels. Finally he had opted for following Barton in. Barton had noticed immediately of course but didn’t seem to mind. This wouldn’t even be the first dog that followed him home.

 

“Clint.” Greeted Natasha from the kitchen. “Loki?” Because _Natasha_. Barton just shrugged and settled at the breakfast bar. Loki attempted to look cute and disarming. Which was not the easy task it might seem when you had mange and pink eye. The fleas weren’t helping either.

 

At this point Tony put in an appearance. He was in an unusually good mood since Steve had made good on his promise to see Tony showered and dressed for his meeting. He had also delivered a weakly protesting Tony to the door exactly on time (it might have been 5 minutes early if Tony hadn’t had to be persuaded against arriving on a motorcycle, regardless of whether Pepper had specifically not said he could not). As it was Tony looked quite speccy in the black Armani (and the American freedom bald eagle tie looked fantastic and did not clash at all thank you very much Pepper –freedom goes with everything).

 

Now Steve had just kind of… hovered. Best. Board. Meeting. EVER! Nobody really felt the need to argue Tony dropping weapons manufacture with Captain America frowning at them. Just to push the boundaries he announced STARK industries could also afford to give away another 5% of the shareholder profits to charity (that was purely to impress Steve – something that was not lost on the shareholders who all nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion). On a whim he also slyly suggested they move board meetings to annual instead of monthly without any success (knocking over that glass of water just to see Steve bend over the table to clean it up had not worked in his favor this time with more than one member even requesting weekly meetings (as long as Captain Rogers was present).

 

“New pet Clint?” Tony commented. It was not unusual for any of the avengers to bring home strays from time to time. Tony had had to open an entire cat shelter on the first floor just for the kittens Steve kept rescuing from trees.

 

Clint laid out a dish of meatloaf for Loki proving he really hadn’t forgiven him for that whole mind control thing after all. “’S Loki.” He mumbled tiredly. Fury had him tracking some weirdo running through Central Park with a pair of underpants covering his face which was all kinds of regular New York Crazy and surely not Avengers work but whatev. It paid the bills.

 

“Lucky, huh?” Tony said fixating on the more common dog name. It was an easy conclusion to make given Clint often mumbled (like he had a hearing problem or something). Clint muttered darkly and Natasha shrugged at him in reply.

 

Tony was not dog people. But Steve was, so Tony could fake it. This was fine because frankly Loki was not a people dog. He growled a bit as Tony got closer. “He stinks.” Which was not very fair, because frankly anyone that had spent time with a hobo in a dumpster would smell similar. Barton smelt similar and he hadn’t even been molested (or if he had it wasn’t relevant to the story…. no body really knew what Clint got up to most of the time – they just knew it involved arrows, Doritos and sometimes pigeons).


	31. Back to Barton

If Steve merely had the build of a Greek Adonis (which, lets be honest, he did) Clint Barton might have been openly appreciative, but ultimately too lazy to act. There was something about Steve… and frankly it was that incredible.. nay… delectable [back tension](http://www.bowhunter.com/editorial/stabilize-that-shot-back-tension-411-for-bowhunters/184030#). Clint bet Cap could draw a recurve that would make his 250 look pathetic… and that was pretty hot. That rotator cuff omnomnom. What he wouldn’t do to give Steve a deep tissue massage on those lovely rhomboids and run his tongue down tha…

 

We digress. To cut a long story short Clint could just run his hands over those lovely shoulders all day long… so he did.

 

This involved Clint stalking Steve for 16 hours through an air vent before dropping onto a startled Steve exiting the shower in his room wearing nothing but a bath towel (because if you were going to drop-bear a super soldier, semi-naked trumped fully dressed). Luckily this wasn’t Steve’s first rodeo and he did not react by throwing Clint through a wall.

 

Which basically resulted in Steve running the treadmill in the gym (normal) with Hawkeye hanging off his back like a [stoned koala.](https://avatars.mds.yandex.net/get-pdb/879261/7b842c67-33a4-4027-8691-7d2a1bd867c9/s1200)

 

Now a normal person in Steve situation might have reacted to having a human backpack but Steve was by no means normal. There are several possible explanations for this.

 

  1. Steve believed this was some kind of training exercise. (not implausible). It would definitely be of benefit to be trained in carrying a teammate off the battlefield.
  2. Steve had been conditioned from a young age to have people (usually doctors and nurses) prodding at his back and chest (plausible). This was partially due to pre-serum Steve having scoliosis, heart problems, pneumonia, asthma… well you get the idea. This had not significantly changed post-serum… for scientific reasons of course *cough*
  3. Growing up with James Buchannan Barnes, handsy AF best friend (who may have been motivated by the altruistic belief that spooning would cure Steve’s scoliosis, or whose excessive spooning may have caused Steve’s scoliosis, the jury is still out)
  4. Growing up with James Buchannan Barnes, handsy AF best friend (who altruistically believed cuddling to conserve body warmth would keep Steve from getting sick in winter. And summer. And good habits should be maintained regardless of season.
  5. Serving with James Buchannan Barnes, handsy AF best friend (who believed the only way to keep Steve ‘safe’ was to stay very, very, very close. Because Steve was just the type of guy that would totally get in the black van for the free candy).



 

Needless to say it could have been any or a combination of all of these (but we know it was you Barnes).

 

“Steve.” Said Tony. Because Sam had a vested interest in what Steve was doing at this time of day (he’d nearly been publically stoned that time Steve didn’t turn up for his morning run 6 days in a row) he had naturally contacted Tony when Steve hadn’t turned up. Sam hadn’t contacted Steve directly of course. That would come across needy and Sam had his ‘cool’ friend image to maintain.

 

“Tony.” Nodded Steve in reply.

 

“What are you doing Steve?” Queried Tony.

 

Steve wasn’t sure entirely what to say. Surely it was quite obvious he was running.

 

“ _Besides_ running.” Amended Tony feeling the edge of a migraine coming on. This might have to do with no one putting him to bed last night since Steve had been out on a mission till well after midnight and he’d had to lock himself in the workshop after an excited Thor had tried to put an adult diaper on him. Or maybe it was the decaf. Tony knew which one he was choosing to blame.

 

Maybe Tony meant why aren’t you wearing a shirt? This was the obvious assumption to come to since Tony’s eyes hadn’t left Steve’s pecs since he entered the room. It was a little indecent after all; especially when you were using shared gym equipment. Sweat could get everywhere.  And this was Tony’s gym after all…

 

“Is it the shirt?” Asked Steve nervously. “I didn’t want to wake up Clint.” After a moments pause. “He’s not really a morning person.” Steve confided guiltily (because Steve wasn’t the type to trash talk friends behind their back... or should that be 'on his back'?).

 

Well. That made perfect sense. Tony wasn’t a morning person himself and… no actually that explained nothing that Tony couldn’t have gotten from security footage (and those cameras in Steve’s rooms were definitely only there for safety reasons. Yup. You just never knew when someone was going to slip in the shower).

 

“Why… is Clint…” And Tony could swear Clint’s eyes flickered open for a second there when Steve increased the incline, but Tony was also prepared to pretend he didn’t see it if it meant Steve was going to stay shirtless a bit longer. ”Uh… “

 

Now this one Steve could answer. Bucky had always just said it was training. He had no idea what he was training. This was clearly one of those things that was painfully obvious and everyone else understood except Steve.

 

“Uh... Training...?” Replied Steve.

 

“Ah.” Said Tony with a nod. Tony had not had to act so completely oblivious since that time Steve had crushed a vending machine during a fight trying to defend Black Widow from an octopus man (and if said machine had taken Tasha’s dollar earlier it was purely a coincidence that she chose to have a stand-off with the bad guy right next to it). Hangry Steve demanding to know if the other Avengers knew Doritos came in flavors other than cool ranch was pretty, but not nearly as compelling as shirtless Steve. “Cool. I’ll just observe then.”

 

Tony pulled up a chair and started taking photographs on his tablet. Um. For training purposes.


	32. Revengers assemble!

The current roster of the Revengers meeting consisted of JARVIS (Chair), Dum-E, You, Butterfingers, the Roomba, Thor and Lucky the dog.

 

Lucky had of course invited himself. And if Thor had at first thought it was suspicious (there was only so many times a random animal could appear in your vicinity with Loki suddenly appearing and stabbing you in the back ( _Surprise bitch! Its me!_ ) before you got cynical) this fear had been partially allayed by intensive research on the Google that supported this beast was in fact demonstrating all the traits of a midguardian dog. Unfortunately for Loki, Thor's intensive research seemed to consist of a 13 minute YouTube compilation of dogs licking their nether regions and 37 minutes of a cat riding a Roomba wearing a shark costume (which was irrelevant but cute and lead Thor on a tangent of whether or not the Roomba could carry Mjölnir… if it could, was it worthy? This had entirely distracted Thor’s attention from the Lucky matter, since he had an ongoing feud with the Roomba regarding glitter (AI’s… so petty).

 

Thor glowered meaningfully at the Roomba across the room. It beeped something offensive in return.

 

Todays meeting was to discuss the new development with Captain Rogers. Sir’s life expectancy had increased significantly since Captain Rogers had appeared.

 

Nobody had a problem with Captain Rogers per se. You enjoyed playing fetch with Captain Rogers, Dum-E enjoyed assisting Captain Rogers with his cooking enterprises (because he was officially still on fire safety and no one could set a kitchen on fire quite like Steve Rogers) Butterfingers liked dumping Tony’s shit on the floor when Steve came to the workshop. Even the Roomba couldn’t complain since Captain Rogers never left glitter (this was implied with a meaningful sensor in Thor’s direction) and Jarvis appreciated Captain Rogers for his use of manners (which the internet assured him meant he respected JARVIS and his fellow AI’s) and near perfect bilateral symmetry (as opposed to most other humans that JARVIS secretly found repulsive). Thor also expressed that he found Captain Rogers form quite pleasing. Lucky didn’t add anything to the records, but this was possibly because he was a dog. He may have been secretly thinking that the Captain did give a damn good belly rub.  

 

It was unanimously decided that Captain Rogers was not a problem, and in the event of a robot uprising in the near future, would be spared.

 

On another note the kale smoothies did not seem to be killing Sir at all, despite Sir’s assertation that they would be the death of him.

 

 

Later that evening Steve Rogers would rescue a struggling Roomba that was pinned in the hallway under Mjölnir. Even if the Roomba had been potentially worthy this was more likely due to the fact that Mjölnir was made from metal and kinda heavy, and Roomba was not enhanced to carry excessive weight. Roomba did estimate it to weigh about as much as [5 adult cats](https://urbandud.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/detail-128-thors-hammer.jpg?w=550)(or 2 hefty [chonks](https://i.redd.it/0f3aicjlepl11.jpg)). Roomba put in an upgrade request.


	33. bedtime with Tony

Steve would be back tonight and everything would be fine. He was off doing secret SHIELD business in Washington. More likely than not this would be Steve wading through the crowds of hover hands and honoring international guests with his presence and was probably just a ‘secret mission’ to make sure Tony didn’t tag along and insult anyone. Tony didn’t need their stupid canapés anyway. Sulk.

 

The information had come at a price - but it turned out Coulson could be bribed after all – though Tony had no idea why a ketchup packet would cost $2600 (the bidding war had been ruthless), he could afford it.

 

What was essential was that Tony pretend he had slept normally and been productive and ***shudder*** healthy while Steve was away. Because Tony was a ~~big boy~~ adult and didn’t need to be babied (which he loved and very much wanted to continue (as long as it was Steve) but he had a self-sabotaging point to make here). Even if in reality he hadn’t changed clothes, showered or slept, and lived exclusively off donuts, caffeine and adrenaline for the last three days.

 

In Tony’s estimation he doubted he could be called on most of those without a blood test (there were a lot of reasons for having eye bags after all), except possibly the showering and clothes (which were decidedly on the crusty side), so for the first time in 59 hours Tony unlocked the workshop and made for his quarters.

 

Pepper might be a little sore about the fact that all he had done in the last three days was beef up the bots and design a new suit for cap - that sure, maybe Steve would never agree to wear (it never ceased to amaze Tony how anti cut-away panel Steve could be, because seriously _Steve, it doesn’t matter if bullets could get in if you were in [Tony’s] bed_ … and sequins, because _Steve it doesn’t matter if they make you stand out as a target…  your shield is literally a target Steve… literally!_ Not to mention tassels) but would still turn a profit in Irene Manning’s lingerie collection, Summer 2020 (a rather involved scenario Tony was planning starting with Steve flipping through a Victoria’s secret catalogue and recognizing the name… how he was going to get Steve to read the catalogue was the bottle neck in the plan so far, since a Wal-Mart catalogue with an add for thermal underwear had him gasping in outrage just last week). 

 

“Oh. Hey Tony.” Said Black Widow. She was rather preoccupied getting a fold up, trundle bed up the stairs since Tony hadn’t actually rescinded that out of order sign off the elevator yet and Natasha Romanov did not sleep on the floor (unless the mission required it)).

 

Tony probably should have paid a little more attention to the fact that these stairs only led to one place. But he was far too in the zone imagining Steve returning from Washington… and Tony would emerge from the bathroom fresh and clean and wearing nothing but a hand towel ( _teehee, my mistake…_ ) and…

 

A very angsty tank-Roomba was beeping savagely at Thor, who had forsook glitter for the last two days (by Odin’s beard it did itch most mightily) but was now looking like the worlds sweatiest mirror ball… and installing a chin up bar on Tony’s walk in closet. Thor was just a little intimidated by tank-Roomba who was now shooting tiny sparks from the taser Tony had only finished installing a couple of hours ago (Tony didn’t ask questions anymore – plausible deniability). Had the tiny beast of iron truly gained the powers of Thor?

 

Bruce was on a lounge chair in the corner innocuously reading a [book](https://static.boredpanda.com/blog/wp-content/uuuploads/worst-book-covers-titles/worst-book-covers-titles-17.jpg). This might have been acceptable in the common room but not Tony’s bedroom. Tony was not curious about Bruce’s bedtime reading at all.

 

Tony couldn’t see Clint at all but knew he was there somewhere since Lucky was chewing on Tony’s pillow (god of mischief! Wait till Stark found out what he left in his shoes…). Tony eyed the ducted air conditioning suspiciously.

 

On realizing Tony was there Thor was extra excited of course because JARVIS had helped him source Ironman Underoos in adult sizes (since Tony had so explicitly told him he was too old to wear the Ironman diapers he had so unsuccessfully sourced last time).

 

Nope. This was not happening.

 

“Nope! This is not happening! Out!” Demanded Tony, stamping one tiny foot for dramatic effect. “Don’t make me throw you out!” This was met with a mixture of tolerant and amused expressions. And a titter from the air conditioner. Okay so maybe Tony wasn’t the most enhanced of the avengers (physically) and perhaps hadn’t thought this through.

 

“Really Tony, no need to be so dramatic.” Natasha purred absently, it was hard to choose where to set up – Bruce had the best spot from a tactical point of view, but he also snored. “You wouldn’t be so grumpy if you were sleeping properly.” Tony did not argue with Natasha. Because Natasha.

 

“That is irrelevant!”

 

“What’s irrelevant Tony?” Asked Steve. Tony would presume Steve was early and not that JARVIS had lied to him about Steve’s ETA. ETA’s were subject to change after all. This left Tony in the compromising position of being exposed in a clearly unrested and unclean state (as opposed to his preferred state of just being exposed) in front of Steve.

 

“Sir feels his lack of sleep in the last 59.72 hours has in no way contributed to his current mood.” Supplied JARVIS _helpfully_.

 

Steve gasped in outrage.


	34. Chapter 34

‘ _T’was I that changed all your clocks!_ ’ This came out rather as: “Ruff ruff wuff” which would be innocuous enough unless one was endowed with AllSpeak. Thor looked up suspiciously, eyes narrowing. He had been moderately engaged with his war on the Roomba, which did indeed seemed to have gained some form of his power (granted not enough current to seriously harm the mighty Thor). Had he misheard?

 

Clint took this moment to fall from the roof onto Steve. Clint would regret this, as he had not taken into account that Steve, fresh from a mission still had the shield holstered on his back. As you will recall, vibranium is completely vibration absorbent. The shape of the shield also meant that when struck, these vibrations would be returned along their original path (or as the angle of the shield dictated). This was great for deflecting things. Like bullets. And Drop-bears.

 

“Ow.” Understated Clint.

 

“Walk it off Barton.” Steve had clearly snapped out of his momentary shock and was doing what Steve did in shocking situations. Took over.

 

“Stark! Bathroom!” Tony went because he wanted to. Not because Steve told him to. He also was not pouting. It was just his natural resting pout-face was all.

 

“Romanov, you call those hospital corners? I call it a disgrace!” Natasha clucked her tongue but started fixing them.

 

“Lucky! Sit!” As a god of mischief he wasn’t sure whether compliance was his forte, but he complied nonetheless. A glance in Thor’s direction proved him to still be glaring with suspicion. Loki gave a disgruntled huff and licked himself. Thor’s expression softened to a pleased smile (this was clearly a Midguardian pet) and he turned back to the Captain expectantly. 

 

“Thor!” Uh… what to say… As usual Thor was wearing more glitter than clothing (being particularly radiant tonight Steve could not be sure he was actually wearing any clothing at all, but he preferred to err on the side of caution). Steve fell back on old faithful. “Drop and give me fifty.” Tank-Roomba howled with displeasure. “And put down a towel first!”  

 

Thor was very pleased. Finally the Captain was dictating the keeping of the house rules. This was progress indeed! Steve turned away with an instinctive shudder at Thor’s come-hither posturing.

 

“Bruce!” Bruce looked up startled. Cap really didn’t have anything to say to Bruce who was just calmly reading a book in a very suitable way for 10pm. But he could hardly ignore the only other person in the room. “Keep up the good work.” Hulk was pleased with this praise and preened. Perhaps Banner was not so useless.

 

****

 

Thor had a quandary. He had no idea what he was to give Steven… and Steven had specifically requested fifty. There were many things he would like to give or do to Steven that could benefit from the laying down of the towel. He did not wish to seem ignorant of another Midgardian custom (because the All-Father could attest, sacrificing that goat in the common room to ensure Steve’s fertility did not seem to be the romantic proposition it once was… ).

 

Tony! Tony would know! Tony was in the bathroom. The towels were also in the bathroom! The two dead birds of which there was one stone! Thor pranced off to join Tony in the bath.

 

Let it be known that this was not to Tony’s liking. It is also not a good idea to allow a Roomba with a taser into your bathroom. Just saying.


	35. the power of vegetables

When James Buchannan Barnes had been used as a test subject by Arnim Zola, he had been administered an imperfect recreation of the super soldier serum. Even imperfectthe super soldier serum amplified everything – for Bucky this had been strength, precision, and an absolute obsession with protecting dumb blondes. Well. One specific blonde anyway.

 

The super soldier serum could not create; it could only amplify that which was already there. The obsession would begin years before.

 

6-year-old Bucky had known Steve about two weeks before he dragged Steve to his house for a Sunday dinner. When Steve had politely excused himself to wash up before dinner Bucky looked at his parents expectantly.

 

“Well?” He prompted. Waving hands at Steve’s retreating back.

 

“Well what?” Queried Mrs. Barnes. It wasn’t unusual for Bucky to bring home animals and such, but it was the first time he’s bought home another child after all. At least it was only the Rogers boy from a few doors down so they didn’t have to be worried about abduction charges.

 

“What do you think of Stevie?”

 

“Cute kid. Good manners.” Suggested Mrs. Barnes. Heavens knew she could never get Bucky to say please let alone wash his hands before dinner. The answer seemed to be acceptable because Bucky preened a bit.

 

“I’m going to marry him.”

 

“You can’t.” Said Mrs. Barnes automatically. This wasn’t exactly the same as the salamander Bucky had wanted to marry last week.

 

“Why not?” Bucky’s lip quivered and gave her the ‘make it good or I’ll throw a tantrum’ stink eye.

 

“Because you don’t eat all your vegetables.” Replied Mrs. Barnes, skilled manipulator (there is a very good chance that this is where Bucky learned _it_ from). Bucky’s mouth fell open. So that’s all it took huh? Stevie had laughed when Bucky had suggested they get hitched and said it was impossible on account of them both being boys. Vegetables were amazing.

 

Unawares of this exchange Steve returned from the bathroom shortly.

 

As the food was passed around, Bucky made a point of serving Steve and himself an extra helping of broccoli. Steve wrinkled his nose up at Bucky because he didn’t really like the stuff in the first place, but also because he didn’t have much appetite to begin with.

 

“I can’t eat all of that Bucky.”

 

The polite family dinner quickly degenerated into Steve pinned on the floor and Bucky shoving broccoli into his mouth. Lucky for Bucky, Steve was a sickly child and Bucky was his first friend, so he could only presume this was normal behavior (Steve would later justify this as Bucky being selfless, believing he was providing Steve with necessary nutrients). Lucky for Steve the broccoli was over cooked and soft so he didn’t choke to death in the vegetable version of chubby bunny.

 

Barnes compulsion to shove vegetables (and later fruit – a misconception that Bucky came to when overhearing that two guys would only do that if they were fruits) into Steve’s mouth would persist well into adulthood.

 

 

Now puberty had come to Steve a little later than most boys, probably on account of the chronic illness, so it wasn’t until Steve was nearly 15 that people started to notice that Steve wasn’t just a cute little kid anymore. While the girls didn’t seem that interested in Steve, they kept turning up on Bucky and Steve’s dates. Bucky needed private time alone with Stevie because somehow Stevie wasn’t even aware that these were dates.

 

Post-puberty Stevie had… gotten unreasonably attractive – all slender, blue eyes and blonde hair and fair skin. Bucky had made a point of making sure this was mostly hidden from the public with oversized clothing – but he knew realistically he needed to stake a claim because Stevie was, frankly, a little dense about this kind of thing.

 

And then he’d been conscripted. Without him there to make sure Steve was covered he knew people might… notice. He’d left strict instructions with Steve to stay warm and covered all the time (because of the asthma Steve – yes even in summer), to not stay out late and to avoid back alleys (because he was pretty sure the last couple of times some fella had challenged Steve to meet him out the back it hadn’t been for a fight).

 

6 months in Steve’s letter had found him. Letters. Steve had been busy. Fella was doing his part for the war effort the only ways they would let him. Picked up work in a factory. Knitting socks (apparently the Red Cross supplied the wool to ‘knit for victory’) and… writing v-mail. Okay the knitting was good. Would keep Steve busy and indoors. The v-mail would haunt him.

 

Someone had told Steve that writing letters to soldiers would improve morale. And it did. Because a letter from S.R. about how important your contribution was during the war, how great you looked in your uniform and how much your efforts were keeping everyone safe was easily mistaken for a goddamn love letter STEVE!

 

Some of the letters even spoke fondly about one James Barnes, the ‘childhood friend’ who had been conscripted. Now Bucky may have made things worse by mentioning a 20 year old, 5’4” blonde with the most amazing blue eyes. Possibly daily. Maybe in his sleep. More than likely in the shower. And definitely as a point of comparison with every showgirl (because maybe Stevie couldn’t dance for shit, but was still better), pinup (because his Stevie had longer legs) and actress (because she was nothing but a fat cow next to Stevie (which most everyone took to mean Stevie probably ~~had small tits~~ was slender)) he saw.

 

These mentions of Bucky in others letters meant more than one confrontation with a fellow soldier over their intentions when they returned from duty. It certainly meant that when Zola came for a test subject for the faux super soldier serum the others captured from the 107thwere happy to push Bucky to the front of the queue.

 

Now everything had turned out fine after this (well apart from the excruciating pain of the experimentation). Steve had arrived to save the day in his new body (and crikey what a body! Just like old Stevie, but with 200% more Stevie– Bucky had had himself convinced he was purely a quality vs. quantity guy until that moment in time – but hey, _porque no las dos?)._

_And by god did he just want to stuff that full of broccoli._


	36. Steve Rogers in the 21st Century

Steve Rogers was on a mission. A very important mission. Note at this time it was Steve and not Captain America who was missioning. This is an important point of distinction.

 

Captain America missions involved the shield, throwing yourself through windows (and occasionally walls), into food carts and away from incendiary devices. Steve Rogers missions involved trying to figure out the 21stCentury.

 

Luckily no one was home today so it was the perfect opportunity. It’s a pity really because Tony had practiced scenarios of Steve sneaking into his bedroom, but all of them involved Tony being there at the time. It did make it easier however since Tony had made sure Steve had access to the Penthouse on the new voice recognition locks he had installed that morning (turns out there are a concrete number of times you can electrocute Tony Stark in the bathtub before he throws a tantrum and that number is two) (on a latter note the mighty Thor was also quite capable of throwing himself through windows and palladium-based metallic glass was not worthy) which Tony would discover later tonight).

 

Steve glanced around quickly to ascertain no one was home before placing tank-Roomba down (T-Roo still had problems with stairs and Stark was holding out on the repulsors). Then Steve got down to business. He shook out the recently laundered (or however it was you cleaned body armor) Cap suit and laid it out flat on the floor.

 

It looked… it looked… exactly the same.

 

Steve liked to think he had a good eye for these kinds of things. His eidetic memory combined with perfect colour vision and his natural artists eye meant he should be able to pick up whatever it was everyone else was seeing.

 

Maybe… He folded the suit (as well as you could with Kevlar).

 

No. It still looked pretty much the same as usual.

 

He clapped to dim the lights. Still no obvious difference.

 

It couldn’t be the carpet. Because Fury had said the same thing about the floor in his office and that was a completely different colour.  Why did everyone seem to think the suit would look better on his or her floors? He suspected this might just be another one of those things he would never understand.


	37. Chapter 37

Sam was the ‘cool friend’. The friend who’s just always there when you need to talk, but doesn’t expect anything in return. He didn't mind being so blatantly friend-zoned because he knew one day Steve would realise that what he really wanted in a significant other was a reliable friend and then Sam's time would come. 

 

So he wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to Steve. Sam had seen some weird shit since becoming the Falcon, but he was pretty sure that was no dog at all.

 

It had started out simply enough... Steve had turned up for their scheduled run (which was always a relief because it meant that New York wasn’t in imminent danger) (it also reduced the possibility of irate fans throwing trash at him when he turned up alone). Today Steve had a dog.

 

 “Hey Sam!” Steve had called as they met . “This cutie is Lucky!”

 

“Woof.” Said Lucky with a certain amount of disinterest and disdain at Sam's presence.

 

At first Sam had been secretly happy. Steve couldn’t run at his normal speed with the reluctant Lucky lagging behind. This was fine by Sam. It meant Sam could actually keep up. Admire Steve from a different angle (nothing wrong with retreating booty Steve, just it was nice to literally see another side of Steve).

 

Or at least it was until Lucky noticed and started growling every time Sam got within a 6m radius.

 

“I’m so sorry Sam!” Yelped Steve. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him! Just stay back for now!”

 

Sam dropped back a couple of meters to watch Steve get out a dog bowl and fill it at a nearby faucet. Because _obviously_ water would make the dog like Sam. Then Sam saw it. Lucky turned around and full on _smirked_ at him.

 

Sam gasped.

 

Lucky realized he had been caught and immediately stopped smirking. Sam’s eyes did not un-narrow. Even when Lucky licked his genitals. This was a poor choice of action, because regardless of how effective it was on Thor, the majority of the human race was not that amused. It also gave Sam an idea. An awful idea. Sam had a wonderful, awful idea.

 

“Steve. You need to get that dog neutered.”

 

****

 

It was rather ironic that ‘Lucky’ was cuddled up on the couch next to Steve, drooling into Steve’s crotch as Steve absently scratched his ears one handed. It was ironic because Lucky was thinking he might be the luckiest dog in the whole of Midguard while Steve’s other hand was scrolling through a web site and reading up on pet sterilization.

 

Turns out you even needed a license to own a dog these days. This led into a whole string of searches about licenses

 

"Hey, Tony." Asked Steve, breaking Tony from a very serious contemplation of how nice it would be to be a dog. "Do I need a driver's license?"

 

"A pilot's license?" Asked Tony, because Steve _had_  been crashing an awful lot of helicopters, that would make an unusual amount of sense. 

 

"Steve. Please tell me you have a pilots license." Remarked Coulson apparating from where ever Coulson came from. 

 

"I meant a drivers license. Do I need a pilot's license too?"

 

"Wait. No." Tony interrupted again. "New York was one of the first states to have a licensing system Steve. Even in your time." Everyone ignored Coulson who was having a paperwork apoplexy in the corner.

 

"It cost $2." Explained Steve with a shrug. "Plus I didn't even have a car."

 

"I saw footage of you driving in the war!" 

 

"Nobody asked if I had a license Tony."

 

"You flew the Quinjet today Steve. I was in it. How have you not killed us all yet?" Well this certainly explained the whole crashing in the North Atlantic Ocean thing. 

 

"Don't be silly. I read the manual." Tony just gave him the ' _I can't believe this shit Steve_ ' look - kind of like the 'hairy eyeball' but with more fear. Steve knew that look. It wasn't dissimilar to Bucky's ' _wear the goddamn parachute Steve_ ' face. 'Steve "What? It's not like it's hard..." Said Mr I-can't-use-an-ATM.

 

"I can make you one." Suggested Natasha, steepling her fingers together. "Organ donor? Would you like a fake name? I can make you younger..." 

 

"Is that legal?" Questioned Steve, in defiance of the fact that he had clearly never legally driven in his life.

 

"Yes." Replied Natasha. Because _Natasha_.

 

 

 


	38. MIA

Captain America was MIA.

 

Tony hadn’t even been present when the latest mission had begun. It was a fairly routine fly over of what   _might_  be a Hydra base yadda yadda yadda (they didn’t even really need the Avengers but Steve needed to get his flight hours up for the FAA).

 

Tony had been at a weekly Stark Industries shareholders meeting because Pepper blamed him for them being weekly and it really wasn’t his fault… Luckily the 9x5 glossies Tony had Steve sign before leaving had helped convince the board to at least reduce the meetings to monthly again.

 

Barton and Steve had gone in the Quinjet to check out the situation and hadn’t been heard from since. This, on its own, was not unpredictable. Barton and Steve were a terrible combination when it came to taking risks – Steve was just incredulously naïve and Barton liked to poke things with sticks. Tony could picture the conversation in his mind.

 

_Barton: “I can’t see any evidence of a base.”_

_Steve: “It wouldn’t be a secret if it was visible…”_ (Because Steve got sassy when he was hungry, and it was nearly lunchtime) _“Maybe we should get closer…”_

_Barton: “Could be risky… Let’s drop a bomb and see what crawls out...”_

_Steve: “But what if there’s baby kittens Clint? They could get hurt…”_ (Because   _Steve_  (Tony Edition).)

_Barton: “Lets land and look around. I always wanted a cat.”_

_Steve: “I’ll pack us a picnic lunch.”_

 

…and even if it didn’t go  _exactly_   like that Tony still didn’t trust Barton… not since he spent those 18 hours riding Steve bareback around the tower. Why, if it hadn’t been for Steve’s bare front Tony might even have had to  _have  words_  with Barton. In the end it had taken Coulson with a crowbar and a media release form to force Barton to release.

 

Tony (self proclaimed futurist) had been an Avenger long enough to see three possible outcomes.

 

  1. Captain America and Hawkeye having a picnic on some deserted jungle island and returning to the tower
  2. Captain America and Hawkeye being captured on some ‘deserted’ jungle island that was secretly a Hydra base



 

Regrettably for Clint, it was option 2 (and very, very regrettably for Clint not option 3 – the NSFW option which Tony was ignoring for now – Barton had been awfully handsy for someone pretending to be asleep for those 18 hours, and Steve was always more suggestible when there were food rewards).

 

Clint had been busy poking an ant’s nest while Steve laid out the picnic blanket when the Quinjet blew up (and yeah, Steve just knew Tony was going to blame him for that. The last helicopter Steve had crashed (and that had totally been Thor’s fault but we digress, Tony had made Steve wash every car in his personal garage which even with the super soldier serum had taken two days (at least Tony had thoughtfully provided him with a swimsuit) and actually now that Steve thought about it that hadn’t even been Tony’s helicopter… come to think of it... did that even really qualify as a swimsuit?)

 

Clint didn’t have time to realize how lucky it was neither of them were on the Quinjet because he was too busy being in pain over the piece of shrapnel in his left thigh. _Well shit._

 

What was lucky was that Captain America had 18 hours of training for this exact scenario and had swept Clint onto his back and sprinted into the surrounding jungle with only a tiny, longing glance backward at the discarded food (on a side note, lacking the iron stomach one can only obtain from months of Steve’s special dinners, the two Hydra agents sent to investigate the intruders would definitely regret splitting those sandwiches between them).

 

Steve was concerned about Clint losing blood so as soon as he felt they were far enough away he dressed it as best he could (which was pretty darn good – field dressing were his forte). Their supplies were limited to the few things in Caps belt – which were few, given someone – no names mentioned – had reduced the size and number of pouches on his tactical belt ( _because obviously they totally ruin the silhouette Steve. Obviously._ ). Steve had a few medical supplies, a compass, a voter registration form, and his communicator (but without the Quinjet to boost the signal there was no way they could call for help).

 

Though he wouldn’t be walking anytime soon, Clint’s leg seemed to have stopped bleeding, but moving him again ran the risk of it coming open. Lack of communications was also not the biggest concern – someone would react when they didn’t report back in. Realistically they could stay in hiding for the next 24 hours until someone at SHIELD noticed they were missing, then another couple of days before they got someone out here (and probably less if Stark got bored and hacked the system to track them down). Hopefully not long enough for infection to be a problem.

 

The bigger concern would be food. Not only were there no baby kittens, there were no ~~protein sources animals~~ at all on what was now clearly a manmade island. Steve had had high hopes for that banana Clint said he had in his pocket earlier but it must have dropped out when Clint fainted.

 

Now unbeknownst to the rest of the Avengers, there were actually 5 stages of hungry Steve (not unlike the 5 stages of death or the 5 stages of bored Barton).

 

Stage 1. Was denial. Steve was not _not-_ hungry

 

Stage 2. Was sassy Steve.

 

Stage 3. Was hangry Steve. Hangry Steve had subconscious strategies like accidently falling on vending machines. Being intelligent people that could notice obvious patterns like Captain America falling into a food cart… _again_ , the Avengers took measures to prevent this level of hunger (except Thor who was a fan of the foodporns and had taken to randomly throwing himself into food trucks in solidarity (and the possibility of being licked down had never occurred to him. Never.).

 

Stage 4. Was angry kitten Steve. Since Steve usually solved the problem himself in stage 3, Stage 4 Steve was rarely evident. Stage 4 Steve would cuddle in your lap and then claw your face off and eat it. The scariest part of Stage 4 Steve was not that he knew you were made of meat, but that you probably wouldn’t object.

 

Stage 5. Was largely theoretical. It involved the extinction event of a small colony of sexually confused narwhals in the North Atlantic Ocean. We will never speak of it again.

 

Given the distinct lack of edible vegetation and food vendors, the shock of the recent loss of those sandwiches and extreme exercise pushed Steve dangerously into Stage 4. Steve found himself musing how edible Clint’s biceps could look when you were hungry enough.


	39. Feeling lucky?

 

 

Bruce had had one job to do.

 

Drop the dog at the vet. This had started out easily enough due to the fact that Loki had been convinced he was going to some kind of midguardian day spa. Steve had explained to him that he would be bathed, and groomed and have his nails trimmed and then have a little nap and before he knew it Steve would be home. This sounded delightful.

 

And if no one had fed Loki this morning, well everyone knew beauty came at a cost. He _had_ been putting on a few pounds lately…  and if the spa smelt a bit like antiseptics well… a drugged cat in a cage with a lampshade on it’s head warned him to run, and suddenly Loki understood. Fragments of a conversation between Thor and Barton. Pitying looks from Bruce. He was suddenly realizing being spayed was probably not a type of body massage after all.

 

Lucky had bolted. Bruce was at a loss for words. One minute he had been waiting for the vet nurse, the next Lucky was out the door and half way down the street.

 

This was not going to be a good day.


	40. Sam and Bucky, BFFs

It seemed these days being a super-human was somewhat normal. Conclusion according to The Winter Soldier (aka Dork).

 

The Winter Soldier had found following his current ~~stalk~~ … ~~obsessi~~ … target? His current target to be surprisingly difficult - and he was a prostalker of sorts (just usually the stalkee ended up dead instead of begging for their undies to be returned in a public loo). Hotdog seemed to disappear for days at a time. One day jogging in Central park, the next picked up by a chopper and not seen for 2 days.

 

Clearly Hotdog was not coming today. This was obvious because Airforce was wearing his flak jacket. A wise precaution (you never knew who was watching).

 

The Winter Soldier was keeping a mental map of Hotdogs special stalkers and these currently included Tin-man, Midtown-magic-guy, Dramatic-bald-pirate, Red-slinky, Arrow-grape, Hammer-stripper, Dog-notadog (who was in fact, as the name would suggest, not a dog – something Dork had found out when he saw the dog shapeshift in a public restroom - Dork hadn’t been that shocked since Skinny-camera-kid did that 12ft vertical leap onto the side of a building).

 

Dork had come up with a plan. If he was going to move beyond stalker-status he needed to… ‘befriend’ Airforce. This was not Dork’s strong point. He was not the infiltrate under-cover guy – he was the exterminate-with-extreme-prejudice guy.

 

Still… first time for everything.

 

“Introduce me to Hotdog.”

 

“Hell no.” Replied Sam who was busy playing games on his phone. It was important to appear busy at all times when out in public so as to be inapproachable to random Steve-stalkers. Ridiculously photogenic hotdog guy had predated Captain America by a couple of weeks, and Sam was still unsure if New York knew they were the same person, or was just pretending they didn’t in order to claim two ridiculously hot guys running around.

 

“Introduce me to Hotdog… Please.” Amended Dork. Now Sam had been raised with manners like most good kids, but Sim-Stark was currently putting the moves on Sim-Steve in Sam’s own damn house while Sim-Sam was at work _. No Sim-Steve! No Woohoo! Noooo!_

 

“Hell no… Thank you.” Ground out Sam. Sam was nothing if not persistent, and deleted his current game to start over. That persistence was doomed to fail however as Sim-Stark had an even more persistent viral code that made it impossible for any Sim named Steve, Cap, Captain, Rogers, America or Sassypants (or any combination of former), to resist. This would be Sam’s fourth attempt at virtual marital bliss (excluding that one game when he had ended up locking Sim-Steve in a house with no doors which was just a little creepy and hadn’t kept ghost-Sim-Stark out anyway) – and dammit if two kids couldn’t keep Sim-Steve faithful he’d have to try for more.

 

Sam made little shooing motions at the Winter Soldier and sipped his coffee.

 

“Cellphone number?”

 

Shoo. Shoo. It did feel a little good to be in such a position of influence with Steve. Like being the second most popular girl in school.

 

“Name?”

 

Well. That was unusual. The Stalkers that got brave enough to talk to Sam were usually better informed. Guy needed to do some more research.

 

Fortunately for Sam, this was Dork doing research. The Winter Soldier was currently in the backseat (figuratively) advising that the best way to get information out of Sam would be in private with thumbscrews. But Dork really wanted this to work – and waterboarding Hotdogs running buddy wasn’t really the best way to begin a relationship.

 

“You don’t even know his name? And you want me to… what…? Hook you up?”

 

“Yes.” Said the Winter Soldier. Finally Airforce seemed to be getting it.

 

Now normally Sam knew better than to draw out conversation because there was no dissuading someone who had set his or her marks on Steve. Which was, frankly, everyone. But he was frustrated because he hadn’t been playing 5 minutes when his Sim-neighbors moved out and Sim-Stark moved in next door.

 

“You don’t even know the guy. What do you even have in common?” Demanded Sam.

 

“I… know him!” Growled the Winter Soldier, thumping a fisted hand onto the table.

 

Sam rolled his eyes. Which meant he actually looked up for the first time. Hmm.  Dressed in black. Metal appendage. Too much eyeliner. Killer thighs (like literally… those things could snap a mans neck). All the classic tells of a bad guy (although not an Avenger-Avenger, Sam had been an occasional-Avenger long enough to know). The M249 on his back was just the icing on the cake.

 

“Whoa. Whoa big guy!” Placated Sam nervously, because Sam was not an enhanced human, more of a sometimes gym human that occasionally skipped leg day (hey! Extra muscle weight hampered the wings!). And not even currently an armed human. Unless you counted the plastic spoon he’d used to stir his coffee – which no one would (besides maybe Natasha, who on a side note also had killer thighs – killer thighs seem to be genetic markers for super suspicious Russian spies who could spot a lie a mile away) “I get that you like..” ( _sorry Steve!)_ “Steve. I get it… But I can’t just give…”

 

Sam kept talking (and button smashing his Avengers call card silent alarm under the table) but Dork wasn’t paying attention. _Steve! His name was Steve!_

 


	41. Chapter 41

Iron Man was the first to arrive on the scene. This was because Tony was bored and contemplating flying out after Clint and Barton anyway. By contemplating we mean ordering flowers and very expensive shoes to apologize to Pepper for the distraction he was going to make to get out of the meeting he was currently not paying attention to on the grounds he was surfing the new Jimmy Choo catalogue. _Damn but Steve would probably look hot in heels._ Focus. Pepper bribe first. _If I just add a 1/16 thof an inch to Cap’s boot everyday for 6 months…_ 

 

That was when a genuine ~~distrac~~ … emergency happened. It was only Wilson – who Tony had mixed feelings about. He had always considered Wilson to be Steve’s Rhodey. Except Rhodey didn’t appreciate Tony’s butt like that every time he walked by. And Tony knew because he had deliberately walked past Rhodey every day for a month, even wearing nothing but a thong for a week, just to make sure it wasn’t normal. The video feed hadn’t picked up much more than puzzlement (phase one: casual pass by), curiosity (phase two: bend and snap) and eventually horror (phase three: Tony had had a magnificently plausible backstory about the thong and was truly disappointed when Rhodey hadn’t asked).

 

For his part Rhodes had spent the last part of that month terrified that Tony was making a pass at him and determined to stay professional and detached ( _you can get through this Rhodes. For God’s Sake, don’t make eye contact.)_

 

“Ladies. Gentlemen.” Announced Tony standing up abruptly. “As much as I’d love to stay and listen to this crap I have to go save the world.” He announced. He paused only to empty a plate of cookies someone had left on the meeting table into his briefcase, which actually didn’t have anything in it, but Pepper made him carry to look professional. They were the kind Steve liked (granted Tony had never found a cookie Steve didn’t like, but it wasn’t for lack of trying).

 

“Tony!” Chided Pepper with _the voice._

“Nothing I can do Babe. Avengers business. Not even fake this time. No weapons development. Later Losers.” Oops. Maybe shouldn’t have said that out loud.

 

Pepper hated being called Babe.

 


	42. Food Grudges

Food grudges were serious business in any shared kitchen situation, but when your workplace consisted of aliens, gods and other assorted super powered humans, a smart man learned to avoid them.

 

Nobody ever accused Clint Barton of being a smart man. This had led to several incidents (and one near-transdimensional war). Usually these conflicts involved Thor and any nature of confection with sprinkles. Sometimes they involved Tony and cheese. And once Natasha and vodka (even a dumb man learnt his lesson there).

 

The one sacrosanct rule of Avengers tower was anything left in the fridge more than 24 hours automatically belonged to Steve. This was unquestioned. While it was possibly not the best use of an eidetic memory, it did keep any old leftovers from building up. Certain persons even took delight in planting foods just to see Cap eat them. Not to name names, because we are not here to expose kinks, but if there was a phallic food in NYC that had not made its way into the Avengers fridge then it couldn’t be purchased on the Internet from Tony’s lab.

 

Point was, Steve’s food was Steve’s food. Everyone else’s food was Steve’s food too. And this was the way it should be because you seriously hadn’t lived until you’d seen Steve deep throat a baguette at 3am.

 

Now Hydra had taken Steve’s food and made it Hydras food. This was not okay.

 

Clint had woken up three times in the last 2 hours (after his manly loss of consciousness due to manly blood loss and not fainting). Once when Cap was dressing his thigh (a combination of hot and ouch), once when Cap was desperately pawing through his pants for something (also hot – but wishful thinking on Clint’s part, Steve was just looking for that damn banana) and once when Cap was fighting Hydra agents (just regular ouch).

 

From these brief glimpses of lucidity Clint had managed to figure three things.

 

  1. They were close to the base since the Hydra agents had no extended supplies on them.
  2. They were not expected – since the agents dispatched were grossly underequipped to take down a super soldier – seriously… bullets?
  3. He no longer had pants. Not Clint’s first rodeo.



 

The next time Clint woke up he was in a hospital bed. Steve was busy eating a tin of spam with a spoon at his bedside.

 

“Clint! You’re awake?” Demanded Steve in a tone both concerned and delighted.

 

“Cap? What happened?”

 

Steve shrugged in response. “I punched a couple of guys and the rest surrendered. Same old.” From anyone else this would clearly be self depreciation, but Clint knew that was pretty much exactly how it would have gone.

 

Steve finished the can and looked pointedly at the hovering medical officer who ran off to get him another with a happy sigh that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Steve, who had been wearing civvies and not the uniform, had had to strip his shirt to bandages for Clint’s leg. This left Steve’s Abs fully exposed.

 

“I think they just really wanted to defect.” Hummed Steve, always eager to see the better side of people. Especially when the people bought him food. He accepted a bag of corn chips from another fawning agent. “Cool Ranch? You know these come in other flavors now…” Steve started explaining.

 

“Cap, did you manage to contact anyone?” Interrupted Clint, getting the hairy eyeball from the Hydra agent – who wanted it to be perfectly clear that he had surrendered to barely-shirted-Captain America and not pantless-Hawkeye.

 

“No can do Clint. Communications are monitored so until we can evacuate the base we have to stay quiet. If it self-destructs the whole island could sink.”

 

Plausible.

 

“Not a huge problem. Shield will investigate when we don’t report back. It’s mostly R&D. There’s only 28 people here so it wont take much to evacuate them.”

 

For the first time Clint took note of the 16 other people in the ward. 5 with obvious shield related concussions, 3 clutching their stomachs and 8 others just milling around ogling and hoping to be of service.

 

“They couldn’t get you a shirt?” Snarked Clint. Because Cap’s occasionally exposed abs was a SHIELD only perk. Seriously. It was part of the contract. How else did you get that many super-qualified people into a building at minimum wage?

 

“They only get one set of clothes each, Clint.” Explained Steve, as though that was completely obvious. “Can you imagine how they’ve had to live? I couldn’t ask someone to literally give me the shirt off their own back.” Clint somehow doubted the veracity of this. They had Doritos but not shirts? But then Cap had leaned forward to make his point in earnest and Clint had a glimpse of under boob.

 

“ _Oh._ ” Said Clint, fully conveying the depth and complexity of his thoughts on this matter.


	43. Pepper Potts and Productivity

 

Virginia “Pepper” Potts was perhaps the least well known, somewhat honorary member of the Avengers (and also an occasional guest speaker at the Revengers Initiative on days that Tony had been particularly vexing).

However it was important to remember that one simply did not become the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company without being ruthless. And in Stark Industries case, having a PhD in Tony Wrangling.

Now Pepper knew exactly where Steve Rogers fitted into the bigger picture. And that was naked in a glass cage in the middle of Potts (ne: Stark) Tower where he could permanently boost productivity (with a personal viewing platform for Pepper – CEO perks – she was after all, only human). Alas R&D still hadn’t come up with a type of glass strong enough to contain a super-soldier without loss of transparency – but it was just a matter of time (the incentive program was quite excellent). 

What Pepper was absolutely sure about was that Steve didn’t belong on a mission alone with Clint Personalhygeineisanurbanmyth Barton. Clint Vomitdoesntstainunlessyoueatbeetroot….uhoh... Barton. Clint SorryIgotbirdcraponyourPrada Barton. Clint Flatenceisacompliment Barton. Clint Sorryalltheairconsmellslikerottenburritos Barton. Clint ItaughtTonytoburpthealphabetandthendaredhimtodoitatapressconference Barton. In summary, there might be some bad blood between Clint and Pepper. Just a tiny bit. 

When Steve went away (which was often… this was his full time job after all) Tony moped. Mopey Tony was not productive Tony. Mopey Tony wrote viruses for the Sims instead of patentable software. Mopey Tony designed indecent lingerie instead of billion dollar consumer platforms. Mopey Tony had created a magnitude scale for phallic foods ( _The Stark Dongosity Scale_ ) instead of a magnitude scale for the arc reactors power output.

Now there were two known cures for Mopey Tony, and only one of them did not involve illegal quantities of black market amphetamines. Pepper simply needed to get Steve back as fast as possible.

It had been surprisingly easy, although perhaps ethically questionable, to get Steve to ingest a tracking device. Nobody had even raised an eyebrow when a selection of polish sausage (4 1/2 dongs) appeared in the communal fridge exactly 25 hours before Steve was due to fly out. 3 out of 5 of the devices (we can only presume the other 2 had been dispatched by super-soldier peristalsis already) were transmitting their location over the Indian Ocean when the signal stopped moving. This would indicate an unscheduled delay.   

“JARVIS, relay Steve’s current location to Tony. Discretely.” 

“Will this information potentially put Sir in a compromising or dangerous position Miss Potts?”

“No.” Said Pepper.

“Very well, Miss. Relaying information.” JARVIS was of course a very advanced AI, equipped with very advanced, military grade sensors. Long story short - JARVIS could spot a lie a mile away. Putting Sir into a dangerous or compromised situation was acceptable – and if not he had footage of Sir claiming he would die without Captain Rogers that could certainly provide a plausible alibi.

 

 


	44. Medical Advice from Hydra with love

Tony had finally located Clint and Steve sunning themselves while being served margaritas on the beach. Because the base didn’t have shirts but they did have an abundance of ice, tequila, curacao and limes. Some aspiring sycophant had even fashioned tiny paper umbrellas.

In a leap of pure genius worthy of Tony Stark himself, someone else had located a couple pairs of very short shorts, on the assertion that Hawkeye would now have pants. And Captain America should wear them too. Um. So Agent Barton wouldn’t be self-conscious. This made sense to Steve.

And. Vitamin D. Agent Barton needed vitamin D after all that blood loss. Best they spend time at the beach. Well. Steve knew all about rickets and vitamin D. With the amount of time he had spent bedridden as a child it had been a real concern. And if it was good for bones, why not blood loss too?

And... Vitamin C. for tissue repair. Limes were a great source. Margarita Agent Barton?  

Only Steve could turn a potential deathtrap into a Club Med.

Steve looked a bit mournfully at the barbeque because the fish tacos weren’t served yet (for the omega-3s of course… for Agent Barton's recovery…), but this was forgotten quickly because Tony bought cookies. Tony was such a good guy... he always had a snack or candy bar tucked in a pocket somewhere, and was always happy to let Steve have it.  _Ah my hands are full Cap, just reach in and grab it..._

For his part, Clint was incredibly content. Usually he did these missions with Nat and mostly they ended up with bullet wounds or at least deep tissue damage (seriously, he couldn’t wear mankinis anymore for the scars). Margaritas were a much better option. Nat had clearly been steering him wrong all this time.

_Aw yeah! Margaritas, blood loss induced Euphoria and barely dressed Steve! Best op ever!_

However, it turned out that lack of oxygen to the brain, painkillers and tequila was not a good combo for Clint. It turned him oddly introspective. He couldn’t help but interpolate on the number of successful missions since Cap had defrosted. Did they all end up pretty much like this? Was this why Stark was always in such a hurry to dump everything and fly after Cap when he went on a mission? Was it even possible to figure out how a super genius like Stark thought?

 _Aw yeah! Dodged a meeting, margaritas AND hug and fly with barely dressed Steve! Best day ever!_ Thought Tony, stripping the armour to reveal a leopard print speedo. he accepted a virgin margarita from a hovering hydra agent (and   _finally_ they had got his order right... Steve didn't like it when he flew drunk since he'd found out it was illegal... ironically it was Howard who was to blame for the misconception that it was fine for pilots to fly drunk after failing to convince Steve to join the Mile High Club - Steve still didn't know what that was but Bucky had always been adamant that Steve wasn't allowed to join, Steve still figured it was some kind of loyalty program for frequent flyers.).

Was Hydra even trying anymore? How did being part of the most evil organisation in the world affect their minds? Knowing they were deliberately harming innocents and disrupting world order…

 _Aw yeah! Fish Tacos and barely dressed Captain America! Best day ever!_ Thought every Hydra Agent ever. Except the ones that didn’t like fish. They just sulked into their margaritas and looked longingly at Steve’s naked legs. So milky-milky white (hey Steve didn’t get out in shorts that often… occupational hazard of wearing a suit that covered 95% of your skin (and yet hid nothing, take a bow Mr Stark)). Those thighs could probably bring about world peace if Steve would only get them out more often (and you know... strolled about the UN in the buff and such...).

 

 


	45. Darcy and dating

Nobody had ever really thought to contemplate why Darcy Lewis, Political Science Major was an intern with Jane Foster, Astrophysicist – however she was insightful, direct and frankly the only (self proclaimed) relationship expert that Thor knew. Darcy was quite eager to offer this advice in exchange for Thor setting her up with one of the Avengers. Thor had (perhaps unfortunately) agreed to this without reservation.

 

The reason for this was simple; Thor was starting to believe there just might be a more sizable gap between Aesir and Midguardian mating rituals than he had originally allowed for. Thor had tried the ritual sacrifice, erecting a nithing pole outside STARK tower to keep Steve’s enemies at bay, and regrettably been banned from Central Park (after attempting to construct a worthy burial mound for Steve’s Mother – thankfully this intervention had taken place before Sarah Rogers had been exhumed).

 

Now Darcy, not having the full explanation of who Thor was lusting over, partially due to Thor’s lack of verbal coherency and gender specifics, and partially due to Darcy’s own egocentric nature and the distraction of Steve walking past in a pair swimming trunks (it had been predictably cold on the return flight with Ironman, nothing Steve couldn’t handle but those nipples could put a girl’s eye out…).

 

Given Thor had been previously interested in Jane, Darcy could only presume Thor was interested in was the only other female he had any contact with - Natasha. Darcy personally didn’t think Thor had a chance – but hey she had promised Thor advice.

_‘Aw Sweetie. You don’t got a chance there unless they’re reaalllly, reeeeeally, REALLLLLY super shitfaced drunk.’_

 

***

 

It’s not hugely acknowledged, but alcoholic beverages contain a lot of calories, 86 calories in an ounce of whiskey compared to just 12 calories in an ounce of cola. This effectively made it a decent energy source for a super soldier (almost as good as drinking straight syrup – and slightly more socially acceptable at fundraisers). For this reason, Steve was known to indulge on occasion.

 

So Steve drank like a fish. But Steve never got drunk. This perplexed Thor. Drinking to the exclusion of coherent thought was the Aesir way of honouring your ancestors. Of course the fact that kick-ass sorcery also existed meant no one dared take advantage of lowered inhibitions, and no one had hangovers the next day either – possibly the reason the drinking culture had been allowed to evolve in the first place.

 

“Friend Banner.” Inquired Thor one evening, “Why does Steven never get drunk?” Thor had spent a great deal of the evening refilling Steve’s cup on the sly and was rather put out by the lack of resulting inebriation.

 

Now Thor hadn’t been speaking to Banner lately on the grounds that he had a bit of a rivalry with Hulk on who could return to the tower wearing the most foodstuffs. Hulk still had the advantage based on pure body surface area, but Thor had a secret technique which was basically just him using his cape as a bag. Hawkeye was still adjudicating on wether this was cheating or not. However Banner was the only non-drunk Avenger (besides Steven) at the moment.

 

“Steve? It’s the super soldier serum. His body metabolises the alcohol faster than he can imbibe it. His liver functions are far superior to other humans and…” Bruce’s explanation slowed when Thor did not show signs of understanding, Bruce changed tact. “It’s not strong enough?”

 

Not strong enough. Weak. Unworthy. These things Thor could understand. Thor just needed to return to Asgard and raid daddy’s liquor cabinet.


	46. Enter Wakanda

Ramonda was not pleased.

 

Now T’Chaka was a good king. A good man. He had kept Wakanda safe through some of the world’s most dangerous history, but previously this history had involved threat to other nations, not threats to the entire world. Wakanda now had a vested interest in trading technology that could be vital to defending the Earth. Despite this T’Chaka had still been hesitant to reveal Wakanda to the world.

 

Sure Wakanda had an embassy in New York, a small, unassuming office a few buildings down from the UN headquarters, that had been styled to represent Wakanda as a poor, third world country with a population of less than 1000 (actually over 6,000,000) whose main industry was goat farming (and definitely not mining diamonds and vibranium).

 

They weren’t completely isolated of course, there was always the Internet and every four years comedians from the Wakandan Screen Actors Guild would vie for the right to represent Wakanda at the Olympics. You had to be at least a little visible to avoid suspicion. And every now and then T’Chaka would put in an appearance at an event and give someone a macramé wall hanging hand made by the princess of Wakanda herself (Shuri took great delight in producing the least visually pleasing object she could and had great pride in the fact that each new piece she made was uglier than the last).

 

Now T’Chaka might have enjoyed these little forays when he was younger but had lost interest when ~~Wakanda got Netflix~~   he aged. T’Chaka had gone to some diplomatic dinner in Washington (under protest) a couple of weeks ago and simply… not returned. The next thing Ramonda heard he had purchased an apartment overlooking central park and was personally overseeing the New York embassy.

 

Ramonda was nobodies fool and knew there was only one thing that turned a mans head that fast. T’Chaka had clearly been seduced by some American strumpet.

 

Ramonda was only a little concerned – everyone knew T’Chaka had a little bit of a wandering eye (but then ‘everyone’ in Wakanda also knew Ramonda regularly trained with the Dora Milaje and kept their distance). But just in case (these American gold diggers could be quite persistent) she would send T’Challa and Shuri over. T’Challa needed a distraction (and just in case T’Chaka needed an ass kicking it wouldn’t hurt to make T’Challa the black panther before he left – heavens knew T’Chaka had been ~~too fat~~ too busy running Wakanda to wear the costume for a few years now) and Shuri had been chewing at the bit to see the Arc Reactor at Stark Tower.

 

Shuri, on receiving the news, cackled insanely and immediately got out her beads and cords. She would produce something truly ‘splendid’ for Tony Stark.


	47. Chapter 47

Shuri and T’Chaka really had no idea why Okoye had dragged their father back to New York the same day they had arrived. Apparently that was for Queen Ramonda’s ear only. This left the siblings relatively unsupervised to explore New York.

 

They were enjoying a leisurely breakfast at 5am (not because they were morning people but because jetlag is just like that) when Shuri spit her espresso across the table. T’Chaka’s apartment had an excellent view of Central Park, and the view was, frankly, quite excellent.

 

Steve Rogers, shaky, dishevelled and panting was currently ~~clutching his breasts~~ (Freudian slip) catching his breathe below. This is not to be dismissed as it took a lot to rattle Steve this bad.

 

Rewind 5 minutes.

 

 _“Steve… Steve…”_  Called an oddly familiar voice from a narrow dark alley. So Steve had gone in.

 

 _“No Steve! No dark alleys! Not even if they know your name! Just no Steve!”_ Which is just the sort of advice we should all follow. Especially if we wish to avoid having our underwear ripped off by the advisee with their teeth while being pinned with their weirdly strong metal prosthetic.

 

Now Steve should really have known better. He had been lured into this exact same alley not 3 days prior by what he had thought was a distressed cat, only to find a middle aged man in a cat suit with a similar objective. Thankfully a bald woman in red had ripped off the perp before an international incident could occur.

 

Now Shuri was by far the smarter of the two siblings, if not the oldest. This gave her the ability to think faster on her feet than T’Chaka, but also the experience to stake a claim before the elder expressed interest.

 

“Dibs.” She called.


	48. Chapter 48

Tony had agreed to meet the Prince and Princess of Wakanda. Usually he avoided meeting the royalty of these little nowhere countries that wanted to meet the fabulous Tony Stark, but he’d seen pictures of the magnificently vile hanging that had been gifted to the President that time Steve’s ‘secret mission’ had called him to Washington. And by god did he need one of those to hang in Peppers office.

 

Princess Shuri had intimidated ½ a dozen employees and made an intern cry before she made it to his lab and started poking around. He’d thought this would be a simple meet and greet, not a full on interrogation. Still worth it, the hanging had been so brutally ugly it was worthy of the boardroom.

 

“How much energy is it capable of producing, Stark?”

 

“Uhh…” Maybe Tony should have worked on that magnitude scale for the arc reactor more seriously. “Enough to power the whole tower.” She snorted in reply.

 

“Did she just snort?” He asked T’Challa, who was used to Shuri being Shuri. “She snorted. Definitely a snort.” Tony usually didn’t put up with this kind of abuse (oh alright, he constantly put up with this kind of abuse, but he was usually allowed to defend himself – now he was under strict instructions form SHIELD to remain diplomatic - there was vibranium at stake and Tony really, really wanted that vibranium).

 

“The reactor is okay. And that’s not bad.” She allowed gesturing at the suit.

 

“Uh. Thanks? I guess?”

 

“But the rest of it… Pfff. Show me something that will convince us we need to work with the Avengers. _Wait… work with? Not trade with?_

 

“Tony? Commander Fury told me I’m needed here immediately what’s the emergency?” Interrupted Captain America, bursting through the laboratory door in full battle mode.

 

“Dibs.” Called T’Challa.


	49. Chapter 49

 

Captain America had first met King T’Challa at one of those meet-and-greet things Fury kept making him attend in Washington. Not that Steve minded, it was no worse than the show-girl circuit he’d had to run selling war bonds, the snacks were infinitely better and if shaking a few hands was what it took to keep the world safe… well... whatever it took.

 

Fury knew exactly how to keep Steve attentive at these sorts of events and that was a constant stream of canapés in super-soldier sized portions. And if those canapés also happened to score in the high numbers on the SDS*… well… that wasn’t bad for the budget either (the military was still largely dominated by men after all).

 

This meant Steve’s super-soldier enhanced brain was able to notice the similarity in features between T’Chaka and the siblings immediately, despite being introduced to 283 other dignitaries that evening (and automatically associate them with cocktail wieners). The same super-soldier enhanced brain was also able to make a link with their Wakandan accent and that rather disturbing cat-man but that was neither here nor there. Ascertaining there was no immediate threat in the vicinity, Steve dropped the battle pose.

 

“You must be Prince T’Challa and Princess Shuri of Wakanda.” Steve bowed a little, just like he’d been instructed to do when meeting royalty. “I met your father recently.” He offered his hand to T’Challa (as the senior of the two) to shake, only to have a Wakandan latch onto either arm.

 

“Captain America!” Purred Shuri. “Even in Wakanda we have heard of your amazing and heroic deeds in the Manhattan Crisis!”

 

“I called dibs!” T’Challa hissed at her.

 

“You can’t call dibs on people.” Shuri hissed back. T’Challa had the gall to look affronted, and clutched the Captains left bicep tighter.

 

“Uh… I was there too..” Offered Tony, largely forgotten. “I flew the nuke through the wormhole? Saved the day?”

 

“Perhaps you could give us a tour of the Avengers Tower?” Requested Shuri. “We don’t often see such impressive architecture and technology in Wakanda.” Tony gasped because this was the same little sassanack that had been ragging on his tech for the last 30 minutes.

 

“Actually. It’s Stark tower... Stark?” Interrupted Tony again, feeling like the proverbial third (… fourth?) wheel in his own workshop. Maybe he should just grab one of Steve’s legs and hold on to be safe.

 

“Tony would probably be able to tell you more about that than me…” Begged Captain America, who as far as technology was concerned still wasn’t convinced automatic doors weren’t magic.

 

“Oh, Mr Stark’s time is much too valuable to waste on us…” Demurred T’Challa, who Tony distinctly remembered demanding Mr Stark personally give them a tour of the arc reactor not an hour ago.

 

“Plus we wouldn’t really understand all that high tech talk… we are just simple goat farmers…” Said the girl that had claimed the iron man suit (so cute… so quaint...) looked like it was designed by a caveman (which you know… it kinda was, but she didn’t mean it in the literal way).

 

“Uh…” Said Steve, as T’Challa traced figure 8’s on his left pectoral. “Tony…?” He begged pathetically, looking like a Wakandan double-stuff oreo.

 

Phil Coulson apparated at that point. Which must have definitely been magic because Tony definitely hadn’t revoked that security veto yet.

 

“Regarding the supply of vibranium and associated technologies that your father had initiated…” SHIELD had been suitably horrified when T’Chaka had suddenly fled the country under some kind of duress without formalising the transaction.

 

“Yes yes yes, whatever…” Waved off T’Challa, absently pressing a thumbprint to the paperwork and signing.

 

Phillip J. Coulson had been in love with Captain America since 1966 (when he had noticed his disposable diaper had a very attractive blue man printed on it), and prided himself with liking Captain America ‘before it was cool’. He had discovered a love for paper work about 3 years later when he’d begun formal schooling. Even when mesmerised with frozen Captain America and filling in the paperwork (it had to be done several times because he kept accidentally signing Phillip J. Rogers (Tee Hee)) - he had never imagined that the two great loves in his life might combine so successfully, but here he was.

 

Cap crashes a helicopter? There’s a form for that… Cap needs a dog license? There’s a form for that… Cap destroys a food truck? There’s a digital (because you could deforest half of brazil with that one otherwise) form for that. Cap unwittingly cons a billion dollars worth of rare metal and technology from a small, isolated country? There’s a form for that (now)… Phil was living the dream.

 

“We would be so honoured if the great Captain America could show us around…”

 

“I… I guess I could show you around…?” Steve looked at Tony desperately.

 

Tony, very deliberately took a packet of Oreos from the draw, he crushed it and emptied the contents into the bin. Steve whimpered in horror, realising he had said the wrong thing. It might seem cruel to an outside observer, but it was the only way Steve would learn.

 

Ironically Tony was not the first one to use this method of behaviour modification on Steve, James Buchannan Barnes had had some level of success in training 7 year old Steve to think girls were icky with nothing but a bag of peanuts (and a lot of persistence) in 1924.

 

This exchange went largely unnoticed by Shuri and T’Challa who were fighting like seagulls over a chip behind Steve’s back.

 

“That’s… perfectly fine with me. You should do that Steve.” Lied Tony pouting. _I’ll just. Stay here. On my own. And not eat or sleep ever again. And probably get drunk and choke on my own vomit,_ threatened Tony (non-verbally). It is difficult to say wether he was very good at projecting this image or if he was relying on Steve’s super-soldier, super-perceptivity to pull it out of the ether.

“These two are important guests of SHIELD, you should do whatever it takes to make them at home.”

 

Famous last words.

*Stark Dongosity Scale


	50. Chapter 50

“Well. Steve. Fancy meeting you here.” Declared Tony, swivelling around in his chair to face Steve. This had all the more dramatic effect for the fact that Tony had had a team of 10 in here for the last 3 hours refurbishing the room for just this moment (hey, you didn’t just fit a swivel couch without making sure all the décor matched and the lighting was suitably intimidating).

 

“Tony!” Yelped Steve, who had been trying very hard to be stealthy. This had a little to do with the fact that it was after midnight and a lot to do with the Wakandan royalty that had decided to move into his room in the tower that he was currently evading. “I… uh… I accidentally…”

 

“You accidentally invited them to stay in your room… in  _my_  tower?” And really Tony didn’t care who slept in Steve’s bed, as long as Steve was sleeping in Tony’s bed at the same time, but that was decidedly not the case as Steve hadn’t come to put Tony to bed at 10. Not for lack of trying of course, because at 9.55 when Steve had excused himself T’Challa had ‘accidentally’ lit a small fire that required his immediate attention…. and then Shuri had found the television remote and demanded to know how they got the tiny people inside, and then T’Challa had been enthralled by indoor plumbing and well… Steve had been pretty impressed with all those things himself when he was first defrosted so he could understand that. Wakanda, he presumed, was not a very advanced country at all.

 

“Tony! They don’t know anyone in New York, they’re just young and frightened… and I’m worried SHIELD is taking advantage of them.” Tony snorted a little at that last part… someone was taking advantage alright, but it wasn’t SHIELD, they’d just had Tony bankroll a $2 billion transaction for 800 grams of Vibranium. Tony didn’t know who he trusted less at this point… poor Princess Shuri (who had to hold Steve while watching television because she was scared the little people would come out) or poor Prince T’Challa (who wanted Steve to take a bath with him).

 

Now it wasn’t that Steve wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the drawer (as tempting as it would be to just believe that the entire universe was morosexual), it was just that he had a very skewed perspective on what the current level of technology in the world actually was. This was largely fuelled by being handballed from a rather ordinary, chain-pull upbringing, to Hydra tech, SHIELD and finally Tony Stark **™**. So it was perfectly within his purview to believe T’Challa, who had never seen a flush toilet before, could hold an in depth conversation about the incorporation of vibranium in nanotechnology with Shuri at the same time.

 

Tony grumbled a bit. Despite the wonder twins best efforts to seduce Steve he had clearly hightailed out of there with the intention of sleeping on the couch (currently clutching blanket and pillow) – and had dry hair so T’Challa hadn’t managed to get him in the tub (it seemed that long suppressed message from Bucky still overpowered T’Challa’s assertion that there was a water shortage in Wakanda) _No Steve! It does not save water! No bathing with strangers! Just no! -_ despite it being a contradiction to years of having to share a bath with Bucky because it saved water ( _that’s different Steve… I’m not a stranger_ ).

 

 

“So. Cersei and Jamie finally fell asleep then.” Steve didn’t really get the reference, but he got the gist of what Tony was saying so nodded. Steve had not been prepared when the two invited themselves to sleep on the floor of his room (because they were used to communal living in Wakanda)… then migrated to the bed (because the weather in New York was so much cooler than Wakanda)… in their traditional Wakandan sleepwear (which was so totally Wakandan and not in any way suspiciously similar to a certain metal bikini in Episode VI).

 

Truthfully Tony hadn’t expected Steve to be able to escape for at least another hour which explained why he had three interior decorators stashed behind the wet bar, but that was irrelevant. Steve deserved a cookie.

 

Clint chose that moment emerge from air conditioning duct with a half eaten meatball sub - which totally distracted Steve, who was not not-hungry at this point in time.

 

“Hey Cap, did you know there were two people arguing in your bed?” Asked Clint, with no regard for the fact he had may have just admitted to stalking Steve. Arguing in this case was the usual name calling, hair pulling and hissing that was usually involved in a sibling battle… but probably more dignified on account of them being royalty. Probably. “They… uh… fell asleep now though.” It had been quite the task to climb through that duct with his leg still busted up so Clint had been quite peevish, so he’d shot them both with tranq darts and left through the main door like normal peoples.

 

“Excuse you, we’re having an important conversation here.” Interrupted Tony. “Nobody cares about the Grady twins right now. Lets discuss how neglected Tony is feeling instead.” Tony face palmed at this of course because brain to mouth filters were for people who hadn’t not not-slept in a couple of days. “Uh… I mean… I own the damn tower, you might have asked before inviting them to stay….“

 

“Tony! I didn’t do it on purpose… “ Begged Steve. And Tony knew exactly how this went because it was exactly the same line he used when he bought Lucky home. Speaking of which Tony hadn’t seen the mange-factory lately, he should ask Bruce about that… “They just kind of… followed me… “

 

“Whatever Steve. I’m tired. We can discuss this in the morning.”  _Now carry me to my bed and tuck me in already. Cue grabby hands._

“Aw… leg…” Groaned Clint who was batting at his leg where the bandages seemed to have soaked through. Or had they…? That looked suspiciously like Napoli sauce… Steve gasped and swept Clint up bridal style (much to Tony’s disgust) taking care not to touch the wounded area.

 

“Clint! You should be resting!” Steve admonished walking Clint down the hall without a backward glance. Which was probably just as well since he didn’t have to watch Tony crushing another box of Oreos with his bare hands.

After all, maybe if Clint fell asleep quickly Steve could eat the rest of that sub.


	51. Chapter 51

It had not been Tony’s week.

 

Oh it had started out just fine with his behaviour modification program proving effective – but he had made a fundamental mistake. If there was one thing Tony Stark should have been absolutely knowledgeable about it was the necessity of slapping a patent on something. Stark Industries didn’t run a profit on open source after all – for all Tony had sworn off producing weaponry, he had basically just given free ammunition to his competitors.

 

Natasha absently ‘checked the time’ on her gummy watch. Thor was a one-man Mardi gras of candy necklaces and ring-pops. Tony looked accusingly at Clint (using the same expression Steve did when people tried to explain the concept of diet soda to him) who was currently scotch taping a Baby Ruth to his forehead.

 

“You all look ridiculous.” Tony accused, which was frankly rude from a guy who had an original Formachetti bacon suit sitting in his cheese fridge (which he’d been planning to wear today but now would look try-hard).

 

Steve put in a scheduled appearance at that point. It was not chance that they were all sitting around decked in foodstuffs at 6am after all.

 

“Hey team!” He announced, obviously pleased to see them all up so early.

 

The Avengers for their part were silent at Steve’s lack of interest at their attire. This probably had much to do with Steve receiving years of James Buchannan Barnes School of intensive food association training. Steve had long ago been trained to not eat anything on a person’s body ( _For god’s sake Steve there is no 3-second rule when it touches skin. Just No Steve!)._ This had left Howard Stark in an extremely compromising position with the whole fondue thing in 1944, and thwarted the sales potential of chocolate body paint in the 21stCentury.

 

“’Morning Steve.” Butted in Tony before anyone else could take the lead. “Going out?”

 

“Hey Tony!” Smiled Steve in that way he had that couldn’t be described (something along the lines of goddamn sugar-coated, rainbow flavoured, nocturnal emission causing, dreamboat – hey don’t judge, Tony might be a genius but he wasn’t a bloody arts major)). “Yeah… Lucky escaped from the vet and I’m a bit concerned. Thought I might see if I could find him where he went missing.”

 

Let us not dwell on the thousands of dollars of damage the distressed Hulk had caused to said vetrinary clinic, or the other animals that had perhaps managed a temporary reprieve with intact testicles in the destruction that followed (temporary indeed because Coulson had a plan for this exact scenario that put a lot of SHIELD agents in a very bad mood… but did return all the pets, with the exception of the still missing Lucky and three ferrets that the Hulk had taken a shine to (and oh boy had Bruce been surprised to find those particular hitchhikers in his pants when he woke up the next day)).

 

U chose that moment to enter the room, shaking a bag full of breakfast Burritos that it presented to Steve with a tiny flourish. This was slightly awkwarder and took longer than might be expected. It also created a sizeable hole in the doorframe as U was the least tiny of Tony’s workshop robots (notably 17 other doors and 12 cars between Stark Tower and Burger King sported similar wounds).

 

“U! You got my favourite!” Declared Steve in obvious delight (because Steve’s favourite was any food). U whirred affectionately. 'Twas nothing to liberate itself from the workshop (easier that one might think with access to an Ironman suit) and make the breakfast run. The hardest part had been stealing Sir’s wallet. “Thankyou!”

 

U chirped, shoving a fifty into Steve’s pocket before reaching around to pinch Steve’s backside. Tony was frankly appalled because even he hadn’t had the audacity to try that yet (he’d been working up to it (or should that be down?) every time he carried Steve in the Ironman suit.

 

“Oh U!” Squawked Steve, bashfully batting at U’s delta claw. Then Steve did something U did not like. He turned to Tony and exclaimed, “Tony, your bots are so amazing! I didn’t even know they left the tower! Tony you are amazing!” Tony preened a bit, because compliments.

 

U was not pleased. Sir was getting the credit for U’s plan. U tapped Steve on the shoulder. When Steve turned to face him again, U took a single Burrito from the bag and squeezed. The wrapper burst dropping its contents on the floor. Steve gasped.

 

“U! U is amazing?” Corrected Steve with concern. This was clearly the correct response, as U tucked another fifty in Steve’s pocket. “U is amazing!” Repeated Steve with more confidence.


	52. Brunch with Sam

If Tony was having ‘a bad week’, then Sam Wilson’s had been full on apocalyptic.

 

It turned out that encounter with the masked guy in the coffee shop (and yes, he had put in an official complaint about the response to his silent alarm being Ironman doing a flyby and yelling ‘YoulookfineWilson’) had evolved a little since when Coulson had pulled the video footage and it turned out to be The goddamn Winter Soldier. Now Sam was not the kind of guy to be any more easily intimidated by an enhanced evil assassin than the next guy (being an Avenger meant you saw some weird shit) but now SHIELD had decided they wanted Sam to make contact with the guy. Why did he want to contact Captain America? Rumor had it that the Winter Soldier was currently being pursued by Hydra… maybe he was defecting? Steve did have that effect on people after all…

 

Sam was more curious why the guy was wearing a pair of tighty-whiteys on his face, but again… Avenger… weird shit. Later that same day he would also see the Hulk chasing a dog down 5thAvenue wearing disturbingly angry pants and shouting (and Sam was pretty sure he misheard because it sounded suspiciously like   _HULK SMASH TESTICLES_ ) – so no more weird than usual.

 

Being mugged outside Burger King by what he was moderately sure was one of Tony Starks robots for a bag of breakfast burritos… now that was new. Poor U had not taken into account that once he made it to Burger King it would need some sort of sound modulator to order food. In U’s defence it had tossed a few fifties and Tony’s Black Visa Card (U had no idea what food cost after all) at the stunned human’s feet before turning back to Stark tower.

 

Back to the present and Sam had to listen to Steve extoll how much he loved Starks robot and how it had surprised him with breakfast that morning. This might have stung a great deal less if it had gone to Sam’s original plan of Sam surprising Steve with breakfast that morning. And then Steve would realise how much he loved Sam, and then Sam would suggest he would be happy to make Steve breakfast every morning… perhaps in bed… and… uh… you wouldn’t want to get food on your clothes, best to take them off…

 

Steve waved his hand in front of Sam’s face, who seemed to have checked out for a bit. Luckily for Sam’s dignity, he would not act upon his current delusion – Howard had not been so lucky – molten cheese, it turned out, burned like a bitch, and should never be applied to one’s genitalia.

 

Sam came back to reality to find Steve eating his muffin (words that would have a lot more hidden innuendo in an AU where Sam was female, but for now just meant Steve had helped himself to Sam’s after finishing his own apple pie). Steve was used to people phasing out around him and quite envied their ability to focus on their thoughts, even if they always refused to tell him what they were thinking about.

 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Steve tried anyway.

 

“Yeah. No.” Answered Sam resolutely. Steve pouted a bit but let it go.

 

“Coulson says you made contact with the Winter Soldier?”

 

Well. If contact could be defined as being stalked. Sam was quite sure the Winter Soldier was watching right now. In fact it was pretty much a given since there was a laser sight trained on Sam’s crotch (because it was under the table where Steve couldn’t see it, and not for the psychological advantage it gave the sniper for the target to know they would lose their goolies if they gave him away… probably… it cannot be known how much was Hydras sadistic assassin training and how much was Bucky - who may have employed a similar technique on Steve’s more persistent suitors in the past (and provided the inspiration for the late Howard Stark’s lesser known patent, the Stark vibranium-alloy abdominal guard).

 

“Uh. Yeah. He wants to… talk with you.” That was innocuous enough surely?

 

“Could it be a trap?” Gasped Steve.

 

“Uh….” Sam was not sure how to answer that until a second laser point appeared on his thigh. “No?”

 

 _‘Don’t fucking go! Just NO Rogers!’_  Said that little voice in Steve’s mind that belonged to Fury but may in fact be a manifestation of Steve’s super-soldier tactical mind trying to overcome Steve’s super-stubborn-Steveness …. _but if Sam said it was okay then surely…_

 

 _“Obvious. Trap.”_  Sam coughed into his hand, because even though it was unlikely the random Café he had dragged Steve into was bugged, he was pretty sure the Winter Soldier could read lips. God knows Nat could so it was likely a standard assassin thing. Steve reached over the table and pet Sam’s back through the coughing fit obliviously.

 

“Okay! I’ll meet with him!” Declared Steve decisively. Manifestation-Fury face palmed. “Just… uh… don’t tell Fury.” Steve had fallen into many, many, soooo many, painfully obvious traps in the past. According to Fury even if you knew it was a trap, it was in fact _still a fucking trap Rogers!_  Steve really didn’t want to sit through Fury’s ‘Again!?!’ monologue (oddly enough Steve may even have deliberately compromised himself on one or two occasions when he was feeling particularly nostalgic just to hear one of these speeches and reminisce of Bucky).

 


	53. Colonel Rhodes

Tony had no idea who had covered Dum-E in Nutella, just that it was an absolute bitch to clean out of servos. He suspected Barton of course.

 

Who, or rather what Tony didn’t suspect was Jarvis. Jarvis had come to a similar conclusion as Sir himself that Captain Rogers' affections could be… encouraged with foodstuffs. This conclusion had been confirmed with various trials involving the Roomba leaving a trail of Tootsie rolls and having Captain Rogers follow them to the desired destination. It was Dum-E whose not-quite-as-advanced AI as Jarvis had taken this to the next level and smothered himself in Nutella after observing Captain Rogers licking a butter knife. Jarvis, being relatively incorporeal state could not see why Dum-E would want to be licked, but perhaps that was his body-less-ness speaking…. and even if Captain Rogers had shown no interest in licking Dum-E (or the Hulk either who had tried a similar tactic, a LOT of Nutella had been wasted that day), Dum-E had still been right about the spritz bottle.

 

Sir started grumbling about chocolate skid marks on the workshop floor and U spritzed him, earning a yelp and renewed efforts. U might still be holding a grudge about the breakfast plan, because he gave the spritzer another double squirt that had Sir cleaning faster.

 

Another side study had found Agent Barton could be handled in a similar way to Captain Rogers but with money. Once Sir’s wallet had been emptied, tests with denominations as low as $1 (Sir had taken to keeping a fold of dollar bills in the Mark VIII as Captain Rogers frequently needed them for vending machines) had successfully managed to get Agent Barton to complete a number of degrading and meaningless tasks, which Jarvis had found a little disturbing, but greatly amused U. But then U had always been the most sadistic of the bots (Tony had been going through puberty when the code had been written, and despite the numerous upgrades the trait remained).

 

“You know what Tony? I don’t even want to know.” Remarked Colonel Rhodes, who had just entered the workshop unannounced to find Tony up to his wrists in… something brown and sticky.

 

“Hey Sourpatch, what’s brown and sticky?” Grinned Tony. When Rhodes just gave a grunt of disgust Tony changed tactic. “So… long time no see, did you want something or just here to steal another suit?” And okay, Rhodey had to admit he deserved that since he really had maybe, just maybe, had been avoiding Tony since the whole thong thing.

 

“Just… checking in, since I was in New York.” Tony gave him a sceptical look. “and… uh… yeah… the stabilisers...” Tony clucked at him knowingly. Rhodey was smart. Was good at what he did. But he was no Tony Stark to know intuitively how to work the armor to full capacity. He’d already dumbed it down as much as he could.

 

“The stabilisers are perfect. What do you really want?” Snorted Tony. “You can tell me.”

 

“Well.” And Rhodes was blushing. Tony knew this for a fact because he had been monitoring Rhodeys vitals since he entered the tower and peak in superficial temperature like that… “Well. I was hoping you could ask Captain Rogers …”

 

“Nope.” Interrupted Tony. He had had quite enough of employees, random strangers and various criminal elements trying to get him to play wingman. Actually that was cute. Winghead.. Ironman… Wingman… maybe that could be their supercouple name. He’d been leaning toward Stony but this had a nice ring to it…

 

U gave the spritzer another shot because Sir was musing and not servicing. He’d added a little citrus to it since the last shot which Sir definitely was not happy about. Good.

 

“Could you just give him this letter?” Begged Rhodey. Tony looked at it suspiciously. At the best of times he didn’t like being handed things, but it had gotten worse since Cap had moved in and the greater part of New York decided to forego the legitimate mail service (which granted, was what it was) in favour of having Tony Stark (genius, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy - who clearly had nothing better to do with his time) personally hand over their love letters to the intended. Meaning Steve.

 

“It’s just an invitation from the brass.” Now that did raise Tony’s eyebrows because Rhodey was a colonel… not many people outranked him enough that they could use him as a messenger. Clearly Rhodey wasn’t super pumped about being a messenger either.

 

“What, Cole having a mixer? Barbeque? Do it yourself.” Grunted Tony refusing to take the letter that Rhodey kept shoving in his face.

 

“Fine. Jarvis, where is Captain Rogers?” Inquired Rhodes in exasperation.

 

“Captain Rogers is currently preparing to shower in the gym locker room on the 90thfloor.” Which peeked Tony’s interest greatly. Steve never used the communal showers if he could help it. He was probably avoiding the Bobsy twins who seemed to have the innate ability to hack some of Jarvis’ best magnetic locks, despite ‘being humble goat farmers’. You could only accidentally walk in on Steve in the shower a certain number of times before Steve got suspicious – and that number was 4 (Tony (genius) had managed to score a record breaking 5 walk ins by merit of claiming one of them as sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia– and Steve wasn’t entirely sure what that was but it sounded awfully serious).

 

“Uhhhh. On second thoughts, I’ll take it to him.” Tony put out a hand to grab the letter which Rhodey suddenly whipped away.

 

“No. You’re right Tony, I should take it to him myself.” Mused Rhodes (because if Tony flip-flopped there was always a good reason). He had only seen Captain America in action in film footage since he’d been busy in Hong Kong when the Chitauri main invasion occurred… but there had been… talk. Maybe it was time they met face to face, since they’d inevitably be working together at some point in the future. Not to mention any man that Tony deferred to as leader had to be something special.

 

“Captain Rogers has removed his clothing.” Supplied Jarvis. _Helpfully._

 

Tony made desperate snatchy hands at the envelope, but there must be something to that darn airforce training because Rhodey managed to evade him again.

 

“I  _am_  under orders to deliver this to Captain Rogers personally.” Tutted Rhodes in direct contradiction to the fact he had tried to shove the duty onto Tony just moments ago.

 

“Captain Rogers is currently applying shampoo.” Supplied Jarvis. _Helpfully._ Because this was totally not part of a plot to get Sir into the bathroom with a Roomba and a fully charged taser. The Roomba had been appalled to find Sir had Roomba proofed his personal bathroom with a line of shoes across the doorway, but the locker room was still fully accessible.

 

“We should do that. Immediately. No time like the present.” Supplied Tony urgently. Because the day Cap had moved into the tower Tony had had the modesty screens in the showers removed for just such an emergency as Steve dropping the soap. Tony also knew there was no time to waste because Steve was all business in the shower and never took more than 3 minutes. Tony just presumed this was either a military thing or a saving hot water thing poor people did, and not at all a time limit set by James Buchannan Barnes who had to smuggle Steve in and out of the shower trailer without anyone noticing during WWII.

_“I need a bit longer Bucky. I’m filthy!” Whined Steve who had spent the last 8 days holed up in a mud filled trench on the Swiss-German Border with 14 commandoes and a dead Braunvieh. With Barnes on another assignment, it had been an unlikely combination of a water shortage, an outbreak of dysentery and the stink when the cow exploded that kept Steve’s virtue intact._

_“3 minutes soldier. The timer has started.” Steve had mulishly taken 4 minutes, and Bucky had been temporarily demoted to corporal. Steve would never know this was for beating the shit out of that persistent Major who had ‘just wanted to welcome Captain Rogers back’ and not for wasting that extra minute of water._

Jarvis mentally sighed (or computer equivalent which was probably an angrily flashing light somewhere). Colonel Rhodes was delaying and Captain Rogers would not remain in the shower much longer at this rate. Once Captain Rogers was dressed Sir would no longer feel compelled to enter the bathroom. Time for the trump card.

“Captain Rogers has dropped the soap.” Supplied Jarvis. It was not a lie because the liquid soap that Captain Rogers was using had in fact left his hand and had in fact eventually hit the floor via the effect of gravity. Effectively the definition of ‘dropped’. Clearly Jarvis had used the expression correctly, as Sir whimpered pathetically and started dragging Colonel Rhodes to the elevator, flinging the out of order sign aside – needs must.


	54. Shower scene

 

Even though Rhodes had… ‘heard things’, nothing prepared him for the sight of Steve Rogers stepping out of the shower dressed in nothing but a ridiculously undersized towel (because it was a trade-off every Avenger had agreed to on the off-chance they might catch Steve coming out of the shower one day).

 

Physical. Human. Perfection.

 

Never had three words so succinctly described and yet under evaluated something. Rhodes loosened his collar.

 

“Hey Tony!” Smiled Steve with out a hint of self-awareness. “You smell good.”

 

“Uh. Yeah.” Muttered Tony, who was still up to his elbows in Nutella.

 

“Planning a workout?” Asked Steve, because why else would Tony and his friend be in the locker room?

 

“What?” Said Tony. Because towel-Steve omnomnom.

 

“Who’s your friend?” Steve tried, gathering up a couple of bottles from the shower stall.

 

Oh! Tony knew the answer to that one! “Steve. This is Colonel Rhodes. He uh…” Tony trailed off because Steve had dropped the bottles and saluted. On some level he might have recognised this as the correct reaction to a ranking officer. That level was far, far more subconscious than the one offering a prayer to the gods of gravity for the towel to fall. It didn’t of course, because the gods had beef with repulsor technology.

 

“Sir!”

 

“Its okay, Steve, he’s  _airforce_ , not a   _real_  Colonel…” Interrupted Tony. And if Steve did perceptibly relax a tiny bit that would frankly be an insult so Rhodes chose to not notice it.

 

“It’s fine Steve, I’m not in uniform. At ease.” Offered Rhodes. Apparently the gravity gods had beef with flying people in general (it hadn’t worked that time for Sam either) because the towel was still solidly in place despite Steve fidgeting. Now that the surprise at finding himself not-alone had worn off it was kind of awkward. Bucky had forbidden him from ever being in a shower with a ranking officer ( _yes Steve, even airforce_ ) _._ Or Stark. Both at once seemed an awfully big betrayal.

 

“May I…?” Steve pointed meaningfully at the pile of clothes folded on the bench behind Tony. It was addressed to Rhodes because Tony was kinda spacing out.

 

“Of course!” Said Rhodes, not at all grudgingly. Tony didn’t say anything, he was too invested in evolving telekinetic abilities. Or x-ray vision. Either, or.

 

This left Steve in a difficult position. Tony was (Steve presumed) in one of those genius moments when he invented something that would probably change the fate of humanity. Steve could see the perspiration forming on Tony’s forehead and the way his brows were knitted in concentration (Tony had in fact switched tactic to willing the towel to spontaneously combust). Steve didn’t want to interrupt that. But it probably would be rude to push a Colonel out of the way, even if Bucky had assured him it was fine on many occasions but particularly if they were between you and your clothing ( _No Steve. It’s fine. Push the bastard_. ).

 

Instead, Steve made himself as small as possible and slipped between Rhodes and Tony to grab his gear, then speedily locked himself in a toilet cubicle to change. It is not known if this was because Steve was shy or under orders from Bucky – it definitely wasn’t because he needed to pee because Tony would have noticed the way he had one eye up to the door jamb. Rhodey might have been appalled at Tony’s disregard for privacy and respect if he wasn’t currently processing the fact that Captain Rogers wet, naked pecs had rubbed past his shoulder a moment ago.

 

“Anyway Steve?” Suggested a disappointed Tony, who knew Steve was a very fast dresser. He knew this because he had made Steve practice dressing and undressing in front of him many, many, maaany times. On a logistical level this was so he could assess how quickly Captain America could be battle ready. To assess if he needed to change any of the suit fixtures. How quickly he could remove the suit in a decontamination scenario. Yeah. Repeat trails. For scientific validity.

 

While this seemed legit, Steve had googled scientific validity and repeat trials were, in fact, a thing. Steve wasn’t normally one to disbelieve a teammate but Bucky had always said you couldn’t trust anyone ( _nobody Steve!_ ) when it came to taking off your clothes ( _except me_ ). This had been good advice. Steve  _hardly ever_   had his underwear stolen these days (although wether this is a result of Steve’s caution or because Barnes himself was currently out of the picture).

 

“Rhodey has a letter for you. Looks important. We thought we better give it to you straight away. No time like the present.” Continued Tony…

 

“A MISSION?!?!” Declared Steve throwing the door back, now fully dressed and towelling off his hair. It had been over a week since Hydra Island and he hadn’t had anything more physically challenging to do then search for Lucky. Tony had had over half of Jarvis processing power searching video footage for the dumb dog without success, it was like the dog had just ceased to exist. Jarvis, of course, was a frugal AI and did not believe in wasting processing time, and knowing the truth did not bother. That processing time was much better spent plotting Sirs downfall.

 

Regrettably for Tony, Steves rapid exit resulted in Tony taking the door to the face – which under normal circumstances would result in a nasty bruise or black eye (an actual ‘walking into a door moment). But this door was super-soldier powered. Steve cringed as Tony hit the opposite wall.

 

The Roomba, who had been silently creeping up on Tony was also relatively frugal. It did not believe in wasting a perfectly good charge and raced over to finish the job.

 


	55. Chapter 55

“Not at all Colonel Rhodes. I believe the Roomba was trying to defibrillate Sir.” Explained Jarvis. Jarvis was quite aware that Colonel Rhodes was one of Sir’s more suspicious friends, particularly when it came to Sirs safety. It would not do to have him offside. Colonel Rhodes did not looked terribly convinced.

 

“…and explain that to me as well.” Colonel Rhodes pointed at Agent Barton who was currently pole dancing for U who kept slipping $1 bills in his thong.

 

“Agent Barton was looking for a way to make extra collateral. When we researched his particular skill set, excluding anything illegal…” Jarvis left it hanging, because that was plausible enough.

 

“… and that?” Now Colonel Rhodes was pointing at the petting zoo.

 

“Therapy animals.” Stated Jarvis. “Captain Rogers guests have reported suffering anxiety from being parted from their… friends.” Jarvis did not believe this of course on the grounds that he was perfectly capable of monitoring the symptoms of anxiety, the only signs had been from Captain Rogers who was growing increasingly anxious at the level of skin-ship the Wakandan prince and princess insisted on demonstrating on him. Sir had ordered the six miniature goats in an attempt to derail the pair, and named them Steve, Tony, Tash, Clint, Thor and Bruce. Not surprisingly, the Wakandan royalty showed little interest in the beasts when Captain Rogers was not present. Sir on the other hand was surprisingly taken with them. This probably had more to do with Goat-Tony trying to mount Goat-Steve on the first day than any affection to animals in general.

 

“… and those?” Now Colonel Rhodes had zeroed in on two body bags that were currently waiting to be smuggled out of the tower under cover of darkness. Someone had blocked the garbage chute with 287 empty Nutella jars so some things had to be done manually. Despite Sir’s wish otherwise, the contents were not Shuri and T’Challa. In some lines of work, body bags were just more readily available than garbage bags is all.

 

“I am not required to reveal that unless you have a search warrant Colonel Rhodes.”

 

“Tony’s alive!” Declared Steve entering the room, with a radiant smile. “Uh. But a bit bruised.” He added repentantly. Tony had built up some what of a resistance to electricity since Thor moved into the tower, and its not like this was the first time he’d been tazed by the Roomba, but a door to the face was still gonna leave a mark.

 

“Glad to hear it Captain.” Remarked Rhodes who was having a hard time keeping eye contact from dropping to Steve’s pecs because the shirt, it hid nothing… and once you’d had those things rubbed in your face… (okay shoulder, but his face had been right there…).

 

“You can just call me Steve. If you want I mean… “

 

“James Rhodes.” Steve’s eyes lit up a bit because Bucky’s first name had been James. Small world. Rhodes offered his hand to shake and Steve took it.

 

“A pleasure to meet you Sir.” Steve promptly blushed. “I mean… James? Rhodes?” And Rhodes would have to admit he shivered a little when Steve called him James.

 

“James is fine.” Steve acknowledged it with a nod.

 

“Tony said something about a mission?”

 

“No idea.” Rhodes handed Steve the sealed envelope. Tony might have called it with the BBQ though. There was a suspicious heart sticker on the back of the envelope.

 

“Huh. General Cole?” Steve muttered obviously recognising the sticker because there was no other name on the envelope. Obviously not the General’s first correspondence then. Rhodes couldn’t help but wonder which lackey the General had got to deliver the last. He couldn’t have been more humiliated unless the envelope contained a note with ‘do you like me Y/N (circle one)’.

 

“How do you know General Cole?” Asked Rhodes to fill time. It was a long letter.

 

“I knitted his father socks during the war once.” Answered Steve absently, continuing to flip through the letter. “I’ve met him a few other times at work things.” Actually now that Rhodes thought about it, really it was more surprising he was only meeting Steve for the first time now – either on missions or while visiting the tower. Almost as if someone was keeping them from meeting. Someone or something. Something like.. say… Tony Stark.

 

“Who peed on your riverbank, platypus?” Remarked Tony entering the room with an icepack pressed to his face.

 

“Tones.” Acknowledged Rhodes with a glare.

 

“James was just delive…”

 

“Whoa! Whoa whoa! Whoooooa! James? JAMES!?” Demanded Tony. “You call him James? Nobody calls him James.”

 

Steve frowned. Because Bucky hadn’t like being called James either (except when they were alone, where he insisted. Steve never really understood that part but respected Bucky’s choice). Maybe Colonel Rhodes was just being polite when he said it was fine to call him James.

 

“You can call him…” Platypus and Honeybear were too cute. Tony tried to think of something offensive yet within Steve’s polite vocabulary. “Hatchet face or stink breath. Dealers choice.” Steve frowned. Was this the bullying?

 

“Tony I don’t think…”

 

“It’s okay Steve, I’ve known Tony a long time.” Demurred Rhodes with a set-upon sigh.

 

“Plus it's true, his breathe actually does stink. So what’s Old King Cole want anyway?” Demanded Tony cutting to the chase.

 

“He heard about Lucky running away. He’s speaking at a PBB fundraising dinner… they train service dogs. Puppies Tony! He sent tickets! Can we go?” And damn if Tony hadn’t underestimated Coles connections to get that invite out so quickly.

 

Steve was a sucker for puppies, charities and dinner. The triple threat. Tony knew there was no arguing. If he was lucky someone would attack New York again and he could get out of it.

 

 


	56. Chapter 56

U was seriously considering inviting Agent Romanov to join the Revengers initiative, a move that was largely driven by her (U had decided to designate herself female out of solidarity to Agent Romanovs cunning) new found respect for the agent that had taught her the merits of tipping Agent Barton with nickels that had been stored in the freezer – which both energised Agent Barton and added a pleasant, metallic clinking to his dance moves.

 

Now normally even Agent Barton’s dignity could not be purchased for a nickel (he was more of a 25c guy), but Thor was also conducting an experiment. Thor simply wanted to help Steve ‘honor his ancestors’, not kill him, so some toxicity testing was required (clearly Banners science-y thing had had an impact). After a single drop of ‘the good stuff’ secreted in Agent Barton’s Kool-Aid, not only was the lowering of the inhibitions working perfectly, but Agent Barton was also still alive. This was pleasing to Thor, even if Agent Barton’s lack of clothing was not.

 

Now as petty as it might sound at first one has to see this from a purely asgardian viewpoint (which is to say be very intoxicated before the logic is evident). Thor had been actively pursing Steven Rogers with public displays of nudity for over a month without challenge from the other avengers, had taken a short, round trip to Asgard and returned to find his established niche invaded by one he had previously considered a non-contender. Clint had clearly thrown his hat into the proverbial ring by appearing in such provocative attire before the Captain.

 

Thor shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth and scowled at Clint while U snapped the elastic on Clint’s T-back. Granted Steven had not responded in anyway that would suggest he was interested in the display Clint was creating (unless you counted a rather exasperated huff of disbelief and averted eyes).

 

Actually, Steve was rather impressed to see Clint actively exercising. Clint had been avoiding walking since the whole island incident (totally not so Steve had to carry him around the tower) and he had been concerned the damage might have been worse than he originally thought. Although Steve might never have seen such an exercise performed before (not being the type to visit.. say… strip clubs), technically he hadn’t seen Pilates or treadmills before the defrost so that was nothing unexpected… and frankly Thor’s penchant for wearing a thong had also rather desensitized him to the whole public exposure thing.

 

Steve’s exasperation had more to do with Thor’s booted feet on the coffee table – but Steve had no time to deal with that, seeing as he was currently still in a towel and hauling a semi-conscious, wet and slightly smoking Tony Stark to his bedroom. Not an occurrence unusual enough to actually alarm any of the avengers. Steve had reappeared soon enough fully dressed and declared Tony alive. Tony would not appear for at least another 10 minutes because he was busy acquainting Steve’s discarded towel with his face… uh… I mean ‘recovering’.

 

Thor went back to studying Clint’s routine. Clint was unsurprisingly good at pole dancing – possibly due to his circus upbringing or possibly due to spending a lot of time in strip clubs. Clint had gained many hidden talents from his fellow carnies, such as his infallible marksmanship, masterly sense of balance and contortion and perhaps the most envied of all, the ability to batter and deep-fry any food ever.

 

Ironically it had been a mutual respect for deep fryers that had allowed him to peacefully co-exist in the tower with Loki after he had moved in. While he couldn’t bring himself to actually forgive Loki (you know the whole mind control, kill your friends thing) they had developed a mutual respect while making corn-dogs one evening. And watching Steve eat them. Okay there may be more to this than the fryer.

 

Loki on the other hand was probably fired. He had had to do a quick change into dog-form when Pepper Potts had appeared in MacDonald’s and it was a bit hard to explain why you weren’t at your station, but why there had been a dog in the food preparation area during your shift (in your uniform no less). Even a God of Mischief found that one implausible.

 

Pepper had been doing some late night CEO of Stark Industries stuff when she noticed one of her tracking devices was still active. This was curious in itself as previous trials had suggested that the devices only had a life of about eight hours before super-soldier peristalsis resulted in failed signal. Pepper had theories about what went on inside Steve that destroyed tracking devices that were far sexier than anything involving the small intestine had a right to be.

 

What Pepper didn’t expect to find herself doing was chasing a dog around a MacDonald’s kitchen in her Jimmy Choo’s at 2am. Because catching that damn dog was going to get her so many damn, brownie points with Steve. Brownie points with Steve directly translated into Tony productivity. Tony productivity directly translated into Steve getting newer, tighter pants… uh and of course Tony developing new products for Stark Industries. And if Pepper inadvertently got a pair or two of Manolo Blahnik boots out of it… so be it.

 

Now one did not become the CEO of Stark Industries without being persistent. Persistent and fast. Because _Goddammit Tony it is not a guideline! Put the damn pants on!_ This resulted in Loki finding himself trussed with a very nice, very expensive Prada belt to a very nasty, inexpensive Wal-Mart mop. Loki decided to play nice since clearly he was now most likely unemployed and Pepper Potts was packing a Taser. Because  _Goddammit Tony don’t make me use this. You will so wear clothes to the board meeting!_   This may also in part have contributed to Tony being semi-immune to electric shocks. A big part (Tony was always much more compliant when stunned).

 


	57. Chapter 57

Clint Barton was winning and this was not to be tolerated.

Nobody could have predicted the underdog taking the lead. Nobody. 

_Intolerable._

Tony should definitely be winning this race, he held all the cards – billionaire, genius, connections with Steve’s past (Howard was finally good for something), thottilicious… what wasn’t to like?

 

 **The Score** (according to Anthony Edward Stark):

Progression Categories (modified for Steve’s sensibilities):

Base 1: Casual touch

Base 2: Touching north of the equator

Base 3: Touching south of the equator

Base 4: Commitment

 

Nat:    

pros: lady parts (+3) (because Steve hadn’t shown any preference either way thus far, but Peggy Carter was female and Steve had had a thing... not that Tony wasn’t prepared to follow the body modification route…)

cons: weird foot fetish (-1), stabby (-1)

Total: +1

Current progression: First base… unless feet counted as ‘below the waist’ in which case it was third base… Tony doubted it counted. Except to Nat.

 

Point Break:

pros: abs (+1), royalty (+1), god (+1), zappy (+1), likes Steve’s cooking (+1)     

cons: weird family (-1), not human (-1), extreme nudist (-1), glitter fetish (-1)

Total: +1

Current progression: First base + isolated incidents of second and third base groping

 

Little Bruce:

Pro: Sciencing, adulting, vulnerable (Steve was a protector), patient (+4)

Con: appalling dresser (-1), whiney (-1)

Total: +2

Current progression: No bases achieved

 

Big Bruce:    

Pro: Food provider (+1), strongest avenger (+1)

Con: collateral damage (-1), extreme nudist (-1)

Total: 0

Current progression: Third base (by allowance of Hulk having very large hands he was regularly achieving 2ndand 3rdbase in the same gesture)

 

U:       

pros: good tipper (+1), burrito provider (+1)  

con: robot (-1) (was that really a con? Tony wasn’t so sure…)

Total: +1

Current progression: Third base

 

Fury:  

pros: military background (+1), eye patch (who didn’t find pirates sexy?)(+1), snappy dresser (+1)

cons: drama queen (-1)

Total: +2

Current progression: Unknown

 

Agent Agent:

pros: ???

cons: ???

Total: ???

Current progression: Unknown (much speculation about what happened before Steve defrosted)

 

Legolas:

Pros: legitimised skinship (+1), brought home dog (+1), much free time (+1), fryer mastery (+1), skilled pole dancer (+1)

Cons: questionable personal hygiene (-1)

Total: +4

Current progression: Second Base. Clint’s focus had been largely on Steve’s shoulders and pecs so far. But those hands were migrating further south every single day.

 

Pepper Potts:

Pros: Pepper (+1) knows art stuff (+1)

Cons: Slave driver (-1)

Total: +1

Current progression: Not a threat. Pepper.

 

Rhodey:

Pros: Rhodey (+1)

Cons: _Rhodey_ (-1) Airforce (-1)

Total: -1

Current progression: Second base (contact with nipples)

 

Lucky:

Pros: dog (+1)

Cons: smelly (-1), location unknown (-1)

Total: -1

Current progression: third base (Excuse you! Licking Steve’s crotch was Tony’s job – Steve just didn’t know it yet. Being an animal was no excuse)

 

Tony Stark:

Pro: Tony Stark (billionaire, genius, philanthropist, avengers benefactor) (+4),

Con: Tony Stark (established playboy, egotistical, selfish, bastard) (-4)

Total: 0

Current progression: second base… because Tony was a gentleman, not because of lack of opportunity thankyou very much… maybe… well unless you counted some very suspicious grappling moves during training… Steeeeve…

 

Now Tony knew exactly how to address this lack of equity.   ** _Grand gestures_** . It had worked so well with Pepper last valentines when he had sent her that life size Tony made out of Amadei dark chocolate. It had been a brilliant likeness and purely a miscommunication that had resulted in it being naked. Pepper had clearly seen the amusing side of it because Tony hadn’t received nearly as much abuse from her as Rhodey when his arrived (but you know… in white chocolate because political correctness).

Regardless Tony had been banned from ordering life sized effigies of himself (regardless of materials) ever again. However there was a perfectly good fabricator downstairs that could handle chocolate with the most minor of adjustments… (if you made your own it was not technically ‘ordering’ after all) hmmm… and Steve  _did_ love chocolate… Tony’s musings however questionably productive they might be, were interrupted by the Captain himself.

 

“Tony!” Announced Steve with the million-lumen smile. 

“Steve!” Answered Tony dreamily. He was particularly enraptured as Steve was all sparkly and manly (on any one else that would mean sweaty and gross, but this was  _Steve_ ) at the moment, having just returned from his morning marathon, and  _hello!_   the spring weather had prompted him to switch out to shorts. 

“I’m thinking about moving out of the tower.” Said Steve, drying off with a towel. Tony dropped his spoon into his half eaten cornflakes because he no longer had control of his hand. He’d thought things had been going well. Oh sure Tony was prone to the odd self-sacrificing thing that Steve got snarky about but over all it had been weeks since the last time that had happened (apart from which if you knew it was going to work (ok 99.99% sure) it wasn’t really a sacrifice play Steve… not like throwing yourself on a live grenade). Or did Barton dob him in for blowing up the lab when Steve was on a mission last week (completely a safe, controlled explosion and not dangerous at all – cosmetics had come a long way since the 40’s, no one would even think those weren’t Tony’s real eye brows)? Or maybe Nat had spilled the beans on who had thrown away the week old Thai in the fridge (but nobody knew Steve would be back earlier than expected and it was starting to smell funky).

“What did I do wrong?” Whimpered Tony, because rational brain was weak compared to self-flagellation brain (kudos Howard). This was largely due to the majority of rational brains blood supply currently being used to stop Tony’s lip from quivering.

“What? No Tony! It’s not you!” Tony relaxed slightly, which allowed rational brain to kick in.

“Is it Barton? We can force him to shower…”

“No! Clint is… Clint. I just feel I need my own space…”

“Is it the Dollangangers? I can make them leave Steve... just say the word.” Steve didn’t really get the reference until Tony gestured at the goats.

“Shuri and T’Challa? No, they're planning to leave today anyway.” Really? Well that explained why Snark and Sassy had been so blatantly, hissy last night at dinner. He’d honestly thought it had been Steve’s cooking, which you really had to build up a tolerance to before jumping in the deep end like that. Heavens knew months of palladium poisoning had been the only thing that had allowed Tony to handle it at first. Even now he could only handle a maximum of two courses before he had to excuse himself.

“Is it the camera in the toilet because they’re only there for safety and I hardly ever actually watch the footage…” 99% of the time that was even true.

“Theres a camera in the toilet?” Moving right along then…

“That’s... was it Nat? Bruce? Pepper? Did Stinkface say something?”

“Tony! Everyone is fine. I just want to… keep… someone in my room, and I know you only have the goats here for Shuri and T’Challa and we don’t really have family or pets or anything in the tower usually and…”

“Steve! Is that all this is? You can keep whatever you want in your room!” And if Tony’s rational brain was still trying to set boundaries, the midbrain was slapping it down in favour of Steve. “Is this about Lucky? He can stay! You can have 5 dogs!”

“Uh… kind of…” Bingo.

“I’ll buy you Central Park Zoo. They have lots of the animal things.” Declared Tony. “Jarvis. Make it happen.”

“What? No! Jarvis! Cancel that! Tony, you’d really be okay with me keeping something in my room? I mean it’s your tower and you can say no.” Implored Steve, oddly desperate because Tony already knew every time Steve had smuggled an animal into the tower – and there had been more than a few – mostly pets, occasionally food supply and that one time that mutated crocodile he’d rescued from a sewer (incidentally one of the reasons (the other 98% of the time being voyeurism) it had been necessary to monitor the toilet – presumably it was still inside the tower somewhere). “I mean, I know it’s convenient for avengers meetings but it’s not like I can’t afford my own place or anything.” Which was very much true. Sure real estate was expensive in New York but Steve had made some very wise investments when he’d been paid out by the army. That wise investment had been to turn his bank details over to Jarvis to manage. Jarvis took this very seriously and Captain Rogers was now very indecently rich and frankly held enough voting stock shares in Stark Industries to occupy ten floors of the tower if he insisted.

“Steve! Mi casa es su casa!” Declared midbrain Tony. The midbrain one might recall (or you know... google) contained the ventral tegmental area and was kicking up some serious dopamine action in that reward centre. Mmmm. Good shit.

 

\------------------------------------------------- 

“No U!” Declared Clint, shaking his head. “I'm pretty sure that's physically impossible.”

U smacked her delta claw against the screen meaningfully a second time while Thor roared in laughter at Clint’s expense.

“He cannot do it daughter of Stark!” Agreed Thor. “So puny!” 

“I have too much of the… anatomy…” Because Clint was quite happy with his testicles where they were thankyou very much. U took a fifty out of her purse (Prada of course) and shook it meaningfully before tapping the screen a third time.

“I could probably do it.” Said Steve thoughtfully, testing the pole for give. Naturally Tony didn’t skimp on fixtures so it was the best stripper pole money could buy.

“Steve.” Goggled Clint. “Please to the demonstrating.” Because I beg you to find anyone who can do the coherent when Captain America is taking the pole.

Steve of course easily flipped into the rainbow marchenko, earning the delta claw equivalent of applause from U and a fifty shoved into his khaki’s. The arm and core strength required was quite high and he had to commend Clint on his choice of training exercise – he could already envision a number of scenarios where being able to grip onto a pole with nothing but your thighs would leave the hand free to shoot stuff. On a point of interest he also understood why Clint was so scantily clad since there was a distinct lack of give in his pant seams.

U pulled up another image and tapped the screen excitedly. This one looked like a figure skater with a foot raised up behind and held over the head.

“I don’t think…” Steve blushed embarrassed, knowing the chance was high his pants would not survive that kind of stretch. Steve knew this for fact because the laundry service in the tower kept shrinking them (weirdly it didn’t effect the length, just around the pelvis and femur) and he had ripped quite a few pairs already from little more than bending over. But then Clint was dressed in naught but a pair of spangly underpants and Thor… well Thor was wearing his usual outfit. “I guess if I…” Steve started unbuckling his belt.

This was of course in direct contradiction to one James Buchannan Barnes who had quite adamantly claimed that no training exercise ever would require Steve to take off his clothes.   _None Steve. Just no!_  Steve didn’t have to stop and think about this however since he’d already had this internal argument a week prior when Tony had been training him to dress and undress with the new fixtures on the Cap suit until he had him dressed to naked in 4.2 seconds. Tony was such a diligent guy he had redesigned the fittings a day later and made Steve do it all again.

Speak of the devil, Tony chose the moment to exit the communal kitchen. “Steve, I changed your suit again, I need you to spahghh.” Which would be the onomatopoeia for spitting 16 shots of espresso cunningly disguised in a coffee mug as a single serving of coffee across the room. Really for someone that liked coffee, engine grease and occasionally nutella, white carpet was a really bad choice. “Titanic or nothing.” Recovered Tony who had already mentally prepared for this exact scenario after what now turned out to be a particularly prophetic dream a few nights ago.

 Regrettably for everyone, New York chose that moment to be invaded (again).


	58. Chapter 58

“So. Um. Steve. When we get back.”

 

“Tony!” Chided Steve. “This is the fourth time you’ve asked! We can do Pilates again another time.”

 

“Just checking. I mean… I hear its great for core strength. Flexibility. Who knows when the ability to hold onto a pole with just your glutes could come in handy?” And it was a rhetorical question of course because Tony had a pretty good idea exactly where that particular skill set could be employed gainfully. “It’s just good to see you getting a new hobby Cap. Learn new things. Embrace the 21st Century and all that. Very modern. As soon as we get back, right?”

 

“Lets just worry about the current crisis for now, Tony.” Although lets be honest, Steve was secretly pleased at the concept that he might be doing a very modern thing indeed.  “Nat, what is SHIELD prepared to share?” And there might be a little barb in there because last debrief Coulson hadn’t mentioned there were donuts in the break room and Steve had missed out. Not that trusting SHIELD to divulge all the information was recommended… but food grudge.

 

“Victor von Doom.” Replied Natasha, preparing for the familiar ‘who?’.

 

“Supreme Lord Doctor Doom?” Answered Steve instead, because von Doom might be a common name in the 21st Century. At Natasha’s assent he continued. “I met him at the UN council last month in Geneva. He’s very…” Demonstrative? Tactile? Handsy? Steve wasn’t a complete idiot, he knew many countries had customs and greetings he wasn’t familiar with, why just a week ago he had learnt the traditional Wakandan royal greeting of massaging a fellas bare chest from T’Challa (true story, according to T’Challa it could be traced back to an outbreak of TB in Wakanda in 1890 where the king would apply salve to the chest of his subjects – and pre-serum Steve was no stranger to the benefits of Vicks). Maybe grabbing a fellas butt like that was just the Latverian way of saying howdy. Better to focus on something more neutral. Victor had been talking about building robots. Steve had been paying attention because he’d been hoping to get advice on what sort of souvenirs to purchase for U, Butterfingers and Dum-E (who couldn’t appreciate Toblerone like everyone else). “...clever?”

 

“Uh… yeah, him. He’s released an army of Doombots on the UN Headquarters. Since its considered international territory SHIELD can’t technically be involved so we’re here as the Avengers.”

 

“Robot army?!” Exclaimed Tony because this was totally his cup of tea.

 

“Magic robots.” Replied Natasha and Tony grunted in disdain. Robot armies had gotten exciting since it usually meant alien technology, but magic? Eww…

 

“What makes them magic?” Asked Steve – because smartphones were magic to Steve.

 

“Victor… is a.. er… a witch.” Because who _really_ understood magic? (except maybe Thor but even that was a 50-50). Fury supposedly had contact with some sorcerer in Greenwich Village for that kind of thing.

 

“It’s cheating.” Declared Tony. “My robots don’t need magic.” Nobody felt the need to point out that a Doombot had never caused $190,000 worth of collateral damage while fetching burritos, but that was probably because Tony had paid a lot of hush money to keep them ignorant.

 

“Do they fly on brooms? Or turn people into frogs or something?” Continued Steve without sarcasm. He’d seen The Wizard of Oz so he may have had some rather preconceived notions.

 

“Well they do fly. And shoot lightning from their hands.”

 

“Magical lightning?!” Exclaimed Thor because this was totally his cup of tea.

 

“An electrical discharge through their gauntlets.” Replied Natasha and Thor grunted in disdain. Magical lightning was awesome, but technology? Eww…

 

“Do we know why they’re attacking the UN?” Asked Steve getting to the point.

 

“Doom…” Because Natasha wasn’t calling nobody ‘supreme lord’ “Has a rather unusual governmental model. Not as bad as the last monarch apparently, but the UN was calling him on human rights violations. Doom didn’t like that.”

 

“Is his last name really Doom or is it like a stage name?” Asked Clint. Because really… who in the UN thought it would be a lark to aggravate a dude with the last name ‘Doom’? Clint’s question was ignored. As usual. Seriously it could give a guy a complex.

 

“Anything else we need to know?” Asked Steve pragmatically.

 

“There are 11 Doombots in the squadron attacking the building and Doom himself. He has this magic… whammy thing that lets him control pretty much anything technological he comes into contact with.” Warned Natasha. “Tony that means you.”

 

“Ranged attack. Got it.” Answered Tony.

 

“11 is an odd number.” Said Steve. Clint couldn’t help but think it was unfair Steve could get away with saying weird shit without judgement, just because he had a nice ass. It was a very, _very_ nice ass of course. Peak of human perfection even. Yeah ok.

 

“Hostages?” Asked Bruce, who was really along for the ride – the Hulk wrecking the NY UN headquarters could be a bit hard to explain… but Bruce Banner could at least help from a technical standpoint.

 

“14 hostages, all being kept in the General Assembly building. The others have been evacuated.”

 

“Sounds pretty straight forward.” Said Steve (using the Captain America voice). "Bruce, Thor and I will try to negotiate with Doom. Clint and Natasha, you two locate the hostages and be prepared to free them if the negotiations fail. Don’t be seen. Tony you’ll provide aerial cover, we can’t risk the armour coming in close contact with Doom.” Made sense.

 

“Are you sure I’m needed there?” Asked Bruce nervously.

 

“Bruce you’re the smartest guy I know…” Started Steve

 

“Excuse you!” Interrupted Tony.

 

“…that won’t be a liability in a hostage negotiation.” Continued Steve, which effectively shut Tony down since he had to admit that was kinda true. “Doom is smart. I think he genuinely cares for his people. If we can talk him down we can keep those people safe.”

 

“And what if I Hulk out instead?” Submitted Bruce.

 

“Then Clint and Natasha use the distraction to get the hostages out, Hulk smashes some magic robots and Tony gets a bill for a New General Assembly building. Don’t look at me like that Tony, it probably won’t happen.

 

“Fine.” Said Tony. “But I’m putting the Stark logo on the side. Have I mentioned I have a Pilates pole in my room that spins?”


	59. Chapter 59

“So… what exactly do I do?” Asked Bruce nervously.

 

“Just follow my lead.”

 

“You are in the presence of Doctor Doom, Destroyer of worlds… What gods dare stand against me??” Demanded Doom.

 

Thor raised his hand.

 

“What even is he a Doctor of?” Whispered Bruce who was working on his 7thPhD, but also had the habit of babbling when stressed.

 

“Doctor Doom! We’ve come to negotiate the release of the hostages!” Announced Captain America. Valiantly (not sexily, although it was easy to mistake the two). Because Steve.

 

“Which world did he destroy?” Muttered Bruce.

 

“Maybe it was a very small world. A tiny, insignificant world.” Answered Thor. Because Heimdal generally kept him up to date on these things, gossip that he was.

 

“Have we met before?” Asked Doom casually kneading Captain America’s glutes.

 

“Uh…“ Said Steve who was rather distracted with wondering if it was polite thing to grab Doom’s butt back to return the greeting or not in this situation. He was saved from having to come to what was possibly a disastrous conclusion by a growling Thor batting Dooms hands away. “We met briefly in Geneva at the summit last month?” Doom looked thoughtful (probably, it was hard to conveyed through a metal mask).

 

Ah yes. Doom had only been at the summit because some little country somewhere had been annoyed at him enslaving their population. Hot-canapé eating-blonde had been the only thing of interest there and Doom had nearly convinced him to immigrate to Latveria (which one could also interpret as was waiting for the rohypnol to take effect), when that fool T’Chaka had stolen him away with a plate full of wasabi shrimp. Doom had always had beef with Wakanda since they seemed to have technology on par with his own (the goat farmer disguise had been well and truly blown when Doom had tried to help himself to some vibranium) – but this was personal.

 

“A tiny, puny world no doubt.” Announced Thor.

 

It was in fact this very incident that had resulted in Doom travelling to New York, only to find T’Chaka had already returned to Wakanda. Then someone had called him a cruel despot… and it might be true, but ouch, you didn’t have to say it out loud. Ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom, hostages.

 

“An insignificant world unworthy of notice. A large asteroid or possibly small moon at best.” Thor continued.

 

“Maybe he means it metaphorically.” Suggested Bruce. “An entire world of microbes can exist in a petri dish.”

 

“Not helping guys!” Whispered Steve, who was reconsidering his choice of companions as Doom simmered in rage.

 

“I have far more hostages than I require. Perhaps an exchange could be… arranged.” Suggested Doom snaking an arm around Steve’s waist. “Captain, would you be prepared to sacrifice yourself in exchange for say… the lives of a dozen hostages?”

 

‘Of course!” Answered Steve automatically (who would have agreed for a single hostage, so he considered this a win). Doom likewise considered this a win since he was only here to kidnap T’Chaka’s brats and had planned to leave the other hostages behind anyway. Getting Steve as well was the icing on the cake.

 

“No! Bad Steve! We do not negotiate with the terrorists!” Interrupted Ironman smashing through the ceiling to put himself between Steve and Doom. This involved a lot of very uncoordinated slapping and smacking of gauntlets. Possibly some hissing.

 

“Tony! The hostages!”

 

“Clear Capsicle. Cat-noir saved them already.” Cat-noir? Steve would worry about that later, the important point was the hostages were safe.

 

“But wasn’t there a risk Doom could control your armour?” Asked Bruce. Oops. Tony knew there was something he’d forgotten. Clearly Doom hadn’t because he was doing his thing… except it didn’t seem to be working.

 

“What?! This usually works…” Declared Doom, throwing Ironman across the room. Tony didn’t even get a chance to make his signature comment about performance issues before he hit the wall with a foundation compromising thud. Tony did wonder if when he rebuilt the General Assembly they’d mind if he changed it to hot-rod red, maybe some gold highlights.

 

The lack of reaction from Thor and Bruce was irrelevant of course because Steve was rather brutally caving Doctor Doom’s skull in with the shield. Which would not just have been totally out of character for Steve but also quite disgusting as brains have the tendency to splatter. Or at least it would have been if that was actually Doctor Doom and not a cunningly disguised Doombot.

 

“Cap..?” Queried Bruce with a grimace. “How did you know that wasn’t the real Doom?”

 

“Nobody! Makes! A squadron! With uneven numbers!” Belted out Cap, straddling the Doombot and punctuating each exclamation with another impact of the shield. Eventually he broke through the armour and ripped out parts that were probably the power source since the Doombot finally stopped moving. It was uniquely disturbing and insanely hot and Tony couldn’t help but think if Steve ever decided to kill him, that’s the way he wanted to go (which was a near thing because if Doom had managed to control the armour it might have happened).

 

“So it was a fake? That’s why it couldn’t control the armour? It really thought it was the real Doom huh?”

 

“It didn’t think anything.” Interrupted Tony. “It was programmed to be Doom so it was. I… uh… I knew it wasn’t the real Doom all along.”

 

“Really Tony? That’s amazing! I wasn’t 100% sure until it couldn’t control the suit.” Gushed Steve between beheading one Doombot and disembowelling another. Thor had taken care of five others by crushing their heads with Mjolnir after electricity had proven less effective.  

 

“Of course. Why would I risk myself otherwise? Ha. Nat says they have two down. With the two Cat-noir took out I guess that gives us the full dozen.”

 

“Wrap it up, team!”


	60. Chapter 60

Clint had been quietly minding his own business on the roof of a Brooklyn brownstone (and incidently watching Steve(‘s ass) running through a rifle scope) when he had been shot. Now Clint Barton was not just a sniper. He was the best sniper. Or… you know… at least top five. That was why it came as a genuine suprise to have someone sneak into his blind spot.

 

Head shot. Fatal. No point in staunching the blood flow, he was a goner – on the off chance he didn’t bleed out in minutes he’d probably suffer brain damage so severe he’d be debilitated for life. It barely hurt – the brain didn’t feel, just the tissues and muscles surrounding it.

 

Visions of his life flashed through his mind. Okay. Apparently a lot of his life was watching two pigeons posturing over the bigger part of his sandwich while a third, smaller pigeon pecked forlornly at a brussel sprout. So. This was like one of those death bed revelations epiphany things.

 

“Am I the sandwich or the wimp?” Clint questioned aloud. One of the existential crisis’s crapped on his arm. Meaningfully.

 

This whole death thing was taking longer than expected. Clint sat up, feeling the back of his head with disappointment. No leaking brains then. False alarm. Well. He hadn’t felt this stupid since he’d mistaken that exploding can of biscuit dough for an IED. Clint searched for a rubber bullet or similar because ‘Tash had a weird sense of humor and it’s the sort of thing she might do if he’d annoyed her… and lets be honest, ‘Tash lived in a perpetual state of annoyed. Nothing. Just fresh guano, the remnants of his sandwich and a brussel sprout.

 

“3 second rule.” Grunted Clint picking up the sandwich.


	61. Chapter 61

 

“Sir there is a hostile aiming a projectile at your six.”

 

“Nature of the projectile?” Tony had learnt the hard way that the word ‘projectile’ could have many meanings, and while the majority could be dodged sometimes they had an area of effect, to cut a long story short - shit splattered.

 

“It appears to be a cultivar of _Brassica oleracea_.”

 

“A… cabbage? Seriously?” It was a question that did not need answering of course because said vegetable had smacked into the side of Ironman’s head. It was surprisingly effective, attacker sure had an arm on them.

 

“A Savoy to be precise sir.”

 

Tony didn’t know what he had done to deserve this particular assault of the capitata variety. Here he had been minding his own business, patrolling the city… and if that just  happened to be in a pattern that just happened to be similar to Steve’s running path… well… that just happened to be a coincidence.

 

It wouldn’t be the first time he had been attacked in public with a vegetable. It wouldn’t even be the first time he was attacked in public with a vegetable _today_ , but that was expected when you ended up fighting Barton in the produce section of Target. And for the record Barton had been correct (you could,   _in fact,_  shoot an eggplant from a bow after all –it had taken Pepper to ask  _‘but why would you need to?’_ when she had had to bail them both out of mallcop prison (basically by purchasing the $1200 worth of produce that had been ‘tested-to-destruction’), and yes it turns out  _‘because you can’_   was not Pepper compliant). And yes. In retrospect it would have made sense to buy the vegetables and then return to the tower to test them, but whatev.

 

“Well. That’s unusual.” Tony blasted the assault vegetable, resulting in a flurry of atomised cabbage, which quite frankly stank terrible. Really he should have been prepared for that with his very recent experimentation with cruciferous vegetable.

 

“Sir. The iron-man armor has been… compromised.”  Remarked Jarvis, who had a number of very specific directives coded in by Pepper that equired him to point out to Sir when a chance for potential public humiliation was about to occur. “While functions are not impaired… I would advise returning to the tower.”

 

“But Jaaaaarvis… jogging shorts!” Whined Tony.

 


	62. Chapter 62

Bruce had been sitting in the kitchen enjoying a late breakfast when he heard Tony and Clint discussing their plans for that morning. There was little to no scientific merit in testing the projectile abilities of eggplants nor the effect of repulsor rays on broccoli. There was, however, a lot to be said for the merit of evacuating the tower now. Especially for someone with a… delicate constitution like himself. Hence Bruce was not present some 73 minutes later when Pepper dragged a very sorry looking Clint and a very sorry-not-sorry looking Tony back to the tower.

 

Instead Bruce was washing zucchini off the back of his neck in a public restroom (and if it happened to be at the same place that Steve was meeting Sam – well that was just coincidence). The vegetable didn’t bother Bruce that much (and was automatically attributed to Clint, Tony or a combination of the two). The Hulk on the other hand was extremely annoyed. Hulk did not like vegetables at the best of times, even when they did have the merit of being green.

 

In comparison Natasha had fared the best at the surprise attack, because nobody, repeat NOBODY throws a goddamn artichoke at Natasha Romanov and lives to tell the tale. Until now. Maybe. Despite being able to track the trajectory of the unexpected projectile to the perp she’d only managed to tail him for three blocks before he had melted into the crowd.

 

_________

 

“He said he’ll be here. He’ll come.” Explained Sam for like the eighth time. Dark and broody slunk away to hide in the shadows again. True to his word, Sam had not told Fury about Steve’s... rendezvous. He had mentioned very loudly that he would meet Steve in this very coffee shop, making sure to mention the date and time. And that Steve should come alone. Just to be sure the message got through, he made a point of purchasing Steve a pair of tiny jogging shorts and insisted he wear them so they could do shuttle runs later. Hopefully this meeting really was a trap because Sam really didn’t want to spend the afternoon doing the pacer.

 

Commander Fury slurped his tomato soup and fussing over toast that had been cut in triangles a couple of booths away in a disguise that would have been pretty convincing and unremarkable if it wasn’t for the eyepatch. Coulson was at the counter nursing a frappe. While business attire was generally non-descript Coulson just had a way of making it look like he was cosplaying MIB. Well at least he had some SHIELD backup if this went south. Agent Hill in a waitress outfit walked past and topped up Sam’s coffee. The body armor. Very subtle.

 

An explosion at that point shook a building about 2 blocks away. Uhoh. That was just the kind of thing that would distract Steve. Depressingly no one moved, which confirmed that the other patrons in the café were also agents because any decent, normal person would be running to facebook that crap by now. Moments later a message pinged on his phone.

 

Sam.

 

Will not be at designated meeting place and time.

 

Avoid 5thAve and 72nd. Traffic obstructed.

 

“Uh. So he’s not coming.” Said Sam with a nonchalance he really didn’t feel. “He’s uh… run into some trouble. Waitress… can I get refill?” Said Sam again, regardless of the full cup that had been refiled moments before. So sue him if he wanted someone in body armor between him and the bionic man.

 


	63. Chapter 63

 

Tony was busy blasting the Mark IX with Ozone when the call to assemble came through. A gas explosion on 5thAvenue. No aliens, robots etc. Normally this wouldn’t be an Ironman thing, but Steve had been nearby and the Avengers could use some good press and it had nothing to do with those ridiculously tiny shorts Steve had been wearing.

 

“Jarvis. Send Wilson a muffin basket. The good ones. No bran.” Tony remarked as he suited up.

 

Moments later he was on the scene (bringing the shield just in case), watching Steve herd a group of children to an assembly point. Why were there even a group of children in a building on 5th? No one with children could afford rent there… Not that there was time to wonder about it too much since the cause of the gas explosion decided to make itself known by tearing up the street. Seriously? Mole machine? Cliché much?

 

“Iron Man! You save the others! I’ll try to slow it down!” Which actually made sense because Tony could easily perform air rescue while Steve dealt with the ground level threat. Except it was just plain insulting how quickly all those trapped people remembered where the fire escape was once their chance of being rescued by Captain America (in booty shorts no less) was out of the running. To be fair, billionaire, philanthropist, playboys were relatively common on 5th– in fact a small swarm of them were currently evacuating the Gentleman’s Club a couple of buildings down and snapping photos excitedly on their very expensive Stark Phones (which is to say the regular Stark phone with a very exclusive cover at twice the price of a regular Stark Phone).

 

Now as it turns out, dri-fit is a revolutionary material capable of keeping you dry and comfortable while running, but perhaps not nearly as durable as Kevlar, and those delightfully tiny shorts were already suffering damage, thanks to the mole… er.. person (because really mole people do tend toward gender neutral… or at least we hope so because Tony had a particularly good imagination and did not want any images of mole-persons getting busy randomly invading it in the near future) blasting Steve with some kind of high-pressure hose. And _my god_ wet T-shirt Steve. The very last heterosexual member of the Gentleman’s Club sighed and conceded $50 to one of his cohorts.

 

“I… I think… he’s trying to help put out the fire?” Sputtered Steve. Because yes gas explosions did have the habit of starting fires, and Steve had the uncanny ability to try to see the best in everybody. Even when their motives were clearly more visceral.

 

“Uh. Yeah. No Cap. The fire is over here.” Remarked Tony casually. “Incoming Frisbee.”

 

Then Tony of course had the new challenge of being pelted with projectiles from the crowd (mostly shoes, broken road surface and a surprising number of half drunk apple martinis) since the shield provided a surprising amount of coverage (compared to a sodden pair of booty shorts) for an oversized dinner plate. With the added resistance from the shield, the next blast of the hose sent Steve straight through a 2ndstorey, plate glass window.

 

“Cap? You okay?” Asked Tony concerned over the comms.

 

“I’m fine Ironman. Any idea what they’re after out there?” Which was really a good question because embassies, high-end jewellery stores, hostages, random terrorism, revenge… it could be any of them. The Mole… person had seemed to be making a beeline for the MET but now seemed to be wavering as if something else had caught their attention. “Are all the civilians clear?” 

 

“As clear as we can get them.” Remarked Tony because until the police and fire fighters got here there was very little they could do to control the crowds. A couple of out of uniform SHIELD agents had appeared but they weren’t enough. Maybe he could make some robots for that.

 

“Nat? Are you on site yet?”

 

“Affirmative Cap. I’ve got line of sight, but without knowing what’s powering that thing we could potentially end up blowing up half of Manhattan.

 

“Ironman, think you can disable it while I distract the mole… person?”

 

“On it Cap.”


	64. Chapter 64

So let me get this clear. YOU were only trying to disable it.” Remarked Fury calmly, in that way that always made Tony feel like he had been dragged into the principal’s office for being a very naughty boy indeed.

 

“That is correct.” Stated Tony. “It was Thor that did all the smashing.”

 

“It was I that slayed the beast!” Declared Thor with the clear expectation that now the feasting would begin.

 

“Without knowing if it had anything on board that could have endangered the population of New York?”

 

“I knew of no such things!” Declared Thor. “Come! Let us celebrate our victory!”

 

“It did scan clear for nukes.” Suggested Tony, who would normally have just skipped out of the debrief all together, except a wet Steve (who was shivering in the corner wrapped in a table cloth from the building he had been thrown into) had insisted and a partially naked, wet Steve, we must acknowledge was far more convincing than a fully clothed, dry Steve ).

 

“Rogers! Go put some clothes on!” Insisted Fury sounding less constipated than usual.

 

“I’m fine.” Replied Steve with the jaw-clench, stubborn-puppy face that brooked no argument.

 

“There could have been biological contaminants. Poison gas. Incendiary devices.” Continued Fury.

 

“But there were not!” Chuckled Thor. He had arrived back on Midgard to find the tower empty and all the avengers out of a mission. Eager to get Steve drun.. er… to see his fellow avengers he had flown out to find them and naturally to drive Mjolnir through their latest foe, which always seemed to be particularly effective at engaging Steve's approval.

 

“Well. He’s not wrong.” Remarked Tony, who would much rather be back at the tower because this would be the perfect opportunity to convince Steve to warm up in the Jacuzzi. 

 

“… and where is Banner?” Tried Fury. Because arguing Schrodinger’s cat with the god of thunder was both non-productive and would have Steve accusing him of animal cruelty. Again.

 

“Ah.” Said Natasha (with an unusual amount of no-eye-contact). “We’re not entirely sure.” Apparently Bruce’s zen-zen thing didn’t cover being buried alive in a public toilet by a mole-machine. So what Mjolnir didn’t smash, Hulk did. Such as (thankfully unoccupied) cars. A Fed-EX truck. 7 hot dog carts. And several unrelated public artworks that Hulk simply did not like. “No civilians were hurt.” The Mole-person on the other hand had received a nearly lethal exposure to lightening and would not be invading New York again in the near future.

 

“Over two million dollars of collateral damage and 5thAvenue blocked for at least a month!” Thankfully Steve had still been trapped under the wet bar of the *cough*Pilates studio*cough*  when Hulk had made his entrance so Hulk hadn’t stuck around to cause further damage.

 

“It’s only money Nick.” Suggested Tony, getting the hairy eyeball from Fury.

 


	65. Chapter 65

“I’m going to College!” Declared Peter with an air pump. 5 days stalking Stark tower, 3 nights sleeping in Central Park (Aunt May still believed he was at Ned’s) and a rather nutritionally deficient diet of hotdogs had paid off in the form of some rather  ~~voyeuristic~~ candid shots of Captain America (booty short edition) and Captain America (wet t-shirt edition) and some memories that would fuel his (wet) dreams for the next decade.

 

He sighed a little while he swiped through the pictures, engrossed. Which was not a very safe thing to do since he wasn’t paying attention to what really mattered. Like his spider sense that was having difficulty being noticed over all the puberty going on in his pants.

 

Perhaps this false sense of security was because he was on the roof of a multistorey overlooking the scene, and he doubted he would be disturbed. The Winter Soldier had no such respect for the healthy and normal reactions of a teenage boy, and sniped the camera from two buildings over. Being a very good sniper he made sure to destroy the memory card in the same shot.

 

“Nooooo!”


	66. Chapter 66

 

“…potato, scabies, asbestos, hygiene, deodorant.” Clint finished before screwing up and lobbing the printout into the trashcan (perfect shot of course). The omnidirectional microphone was cunningly disguised to look like something from the 40’s so he had to presume this was a Tony-plot(TM) and the target was Steve. Clint was prepared to see how it would play out, but mostly because there were donuts (rich people donuts were the best).

 

“Good. That’s fine Clint. Okay Cap, you’re up next.” Remarked Tony. Innocently. No sly grin at all.

 

“Tony, are you sure this list is completely random?” Asked Steve, who was becoming increasing concerned that Tony might be bullying Clint about his increasingly common penchant to fall asleep in the common area covered in bird dung. Steve himself had fallen asleep on the couch once after a difficult mission and left the upholstery sweaty (the cushions from that particular couch had been in Tony’s personal collection until the Hulk had got in one night and chewed on them, and frankly, Steve smell or no, there was not enough Glen-20 in the world to make it salvageable) so was of the opinion Tony should just cover all the furniture in plastic and solve the problem all together. 

 

“Not random per say,” Obfuscated Tony. “It’s a routine update for Jarvis’s voice recognition software.” This accusation, of course, did not impress Jarvis at all – perhaps not as much as blaming the chocolate slag in the fabricator on Dum-E had, but definitely a high level of non-impression. It was added to the agenda for the next meeting.

 

“Shouldn’t I just use the same list as Clint?”

 

“No can do, Cap-a-roo! Everyone’s word list is generated based on their speech patterns. Yours would be different to Clint because of the whole Brooklyn shtick you have going on.”

 

And now that he thought about it, that kinda made sense to Steve. People said all the time that he had an accent.

 

“Okay. I guess. I just speak into the microphone, yes?” Steve sighed deeply and Tony was extra glad he’d already started recording. “Eggplant. Peach. Teabag.” So far so good. “Artiste. Button. Gaze.” Seemed legit. “Sextant. Comfort. Dictation. Assemble. Country.”

 

“Good work Cap. Now could you just tap the microphone a couple of times.”

 

“Tony? You want me to tap it?” Queried Steve.

 

“Perfect. All done.” Stated Tony who was in a hurry to edit those recordings into something seedy.

 

“I don’t get it, did you want me to tap it or not?”

 

“Maybe its not working and you need to bang it on something.” Suggested Clint helpfully around a jelly filled.

 

“Tony? You want me to bang it on the table?” Asked Steve.

 

“I really like these donuts Tony.” Remarked Clint.

 

“Jarvis have 2 dozen donuts delivered to Barton’s room.”

 

“Tony? Should I hit the top or the bottom?” Huffed Steve.

 

“Jarvis. Every day. For a week.” Corrected Tony. “All done Steve.” Now if only Tony didn’t have a niggling feeling he had forgotten something.

 

“Stark? Why does my list just have the word ‘squirrel’ written 14 times?” Asked Natasha with the raised eyebrow that suggested the way he answered this question may or may not have an impact on his future ability to sire progeny. _Oh yeah. That._

 


	67. Chapter 67

Peter Parker may have just become one of the youngest interns at Stark Industries. If not the youngest, then one of the most unusually recruited (and even then only ‘one of’ because Tony had the most aggravating habit of recruiting random weirdoes to keep Pepper on her toes). 

As the adage goes, one mans trash truly was another mans treasure, as the same poor quality photos that Peter had managed to snap on his mobile after his camera broke (thanks a tonne anonymous sniper) that the Bugle had decreed were worthless, were exactly what Tony Stark required for his personal collection.

“…and Mister Stark promised you an internship for some incriminating photographs?” Continued Pepper, who had this speech pretty much memorised (although ‘internship’ was often interchangeable with ‘Ferrari’ or ‘10 grand’.

“Well…. I wouldn’t call them incriminating…” Ummed Peter. Pepper mentally relaxed a little because Tony did some pretty shady stuff in public and this kid looked about 12. “It was just Iron Man airlifting Captain America after the Moleman battle.”

“The one where…” Pepper indicated vaguely to her chest. Peter nodded emphatically.

“I’m pretty sure Captain Rogers was wearing nothing but a tablecloth and Mister Starks hand was right up his…” Pepper interrupted at this point by clearing her throat loudly.

“Welcome to Stark Industries Mister Parker.”

**** 

Victor Von Doom had been quietly engaged at a certain exclusive Gentleman’s club in New York, minding his own business and bereaving the loss of a squad of Doombot’s that he’d had to abandon earlier that week (hey, Doombot's weren’t free) by stuffing twenties in the T-Back of one of the very discrete and highly flexible staff (who maybe happened to go by the coincidental stage name ‘Mister America’ and resemble someone else just enough to pay off his student loans, with a few bucks left over to buy spangly underwear (because seriously, Irene Manning’s new collection was  _to die for_ )).

Regrettably even this not-unpleasant pastime was interrupted by an evacuation alarm that sent Mister America and most of the other patrons running for the exit. Victor had to admit maybe New York was cursed for him (or possibly he just had a thing for blondes). There’d been that whole disastrous thing with Susan Storm and her delectable, jailbait brother, this infatuation with Captain America, and now he couldn’t even get a stripper to (ignore an evacuation alarm) stay when he paid him.

Thankfully Doom himself had hightailed it when the Avengers got involved at the UN, shortly after promoting a random Doombot from squad to body double. Luckily New York was so used to Starks robots going rogue no one even questioned that Victor hadn’t been in control of them.  ‘ _I don’t know officer… Aliens?’_ Totally plausible.

Now maybe Victor might have…. overreacted a bit to the situation. But seriously, evil dictator?  _Rude…_ But seeing hot-canapé guy again… it had to be fate. Victor really couldn’t see how this would play out for him though. Most of the time Stark had him locked up in his tower with security that even Victor didn’t think he could get past, and the few times the Captain was out he seemed to be extremely cautious, avoiding dark alley ways and the like (something Doom didn’t know he had T’Chaka to blame for) and staying in public view. The closest he had gotten to success was offering the Captain free candy from the back of an unmarked van earlier that day (which probably would have worked except Steve had a meeting with Sam, so had just thanked him politely and jogged away).

Victor couldn’t help but think maybe he should let this one go. Return to Latvia. Execute some peasants. Or should he stay? There was a potentially epic romance in there somewhere… If only he had some kind of sign…

As it would happen a high-pressure hose chose that exact moment to shatter the windows. The Captain shook off the impact, stripped off the remains of a tattered t-shirt, tossed it aside and wrapped himself in a tablecloth (but not before writing an apology note to the owner and leaving a fifty in the tip jar), took up the shield and returned to the battle (which did explain the alarms).

Victor took a sip of his Appletini. Having a wet, mostly naked Steve Rogers thrown in your general direction was a pretty damn good sign by anyone’s reckoning.

 *********

“Lucky! Nooo! Don’t lick me there! It tickles!” Giggled Steve. And it was definitely a giggle. Not even loosely related to a manly chuckle. Tony might have been jealous if he didn’t plan to add the audio of this particular Steve/Lucky reunion to his collection later. Except instead of Lucky, Steve would say ‘Tony’.

Across the room Bruce was biting his tongue in envy, but mostly to prevent emulating Lucky. Something Lucky obviously was aware of because he kept making eye contact and somewhat smirking. Which might seem out of character for a dog to anyone else, but regrettably Bruce had focussed on biochemistry rather than animal behaviour. Heavens knew it wasn’t Bruce's normal behaviour to want to lick people on the face but for Cap… for Cap he could make an exception, so why not a dog?

“You found him working a fryer in Queens?” Asked Steve again in amazement. And Pepper looked back to the conversation. She had the suspicious feeing that U was sizing her up. This feeling was not helped at all by the universal ‘come-at-me-bitch’ gesture U kept making. Unbeknownst to Pepper this was due to a combination of Steve paying attention to Pepper, and Pepper sporting the same handbag as U.

“Yes.” Answered Pepper. She had no desire to relive the experience of Lucky’s capture by explaining in detail.

“Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy! Yes you are! We’re going to have so much fun!”

“Yes. Tony is a good boy.” Said Tony.

Pepper coughed meaningfully to attract Steve’s attention away from Tony who was apparently not all there right now. She took a small sip of water.

“So Tony, Your new intern arrived today.”

“Hmm? The grad from MIT?”

“The photographer.”

“The one with the shots of me in the memorial fountain? Because that could be anyone.”

“Younger.”

“He told me he was 21! And if he didn’t it was heavily implied! Besides I haven’t done that since… you know…” He tapped on the arc reactor.

“What? No!”

“Is it the gerbil-vest patent? Because I think we both can see the potential there…”

“No! Tony! The one with pictures of.. Ironman.

“Oh. Good kid. Bit of a nerd. When’s he start?”


	68. Chapter 68

Steve twiddled his thumbs while Fury sat in front of him apparently scribbling some super secret work that he couldn’t reveal in a notebook. The silence wasn’t exceptional, but recently Fury had taken to wearing a gas mask and biohazard suit. While Fury wasn’t generally forthcoming when it came to explanations this was borderline bizarre. 

Just like the previous two days, a timer somewhere buzzed after 15 minutes, and Fury removed the mask.

“Can… I go now, Sir?” Asked Steve a little nervously. No wonder Bucky had always advised him to avoid being alone with commanding officers. Even Tony had warned him never to be alone in a room with Colonel Rhodes (unless Tony was present of course).   _It was really boring._

“Dismissed Captain Rogers.” Said Fury, not looking up, with a casual wave of his hand.

Nick had theories about super soldiers. While it was hardly scientifically valid, 3 consecutive days of testing his exposure to Steve had suggested that pheromones weren’t the answer.

If Steve had been producing some kind of chemical that addled the people around him, the gas mask should have had some kind of mediatory effect. Yet looking down at his notepad, it still seemed to contain exactly what it usually did (namely a large heart with NJF 4 SR 4 EVA which was clearly far too complex a cryptogram for us mere mortals to comprehend). Whatever it was Steve did to people it was not airborne.

The effect Steve had on people seemed to vary. If anything people seemed to be charmed to see exactly what they wanted to. ‘See’ of course being a bit general because there were also a great many people who were also quite interested in touching, smelling, tasting and hearing (a rather recent addition since Tony Starks super secret, somewhat naughty, audio files had been leaked… a rather petty vengeance on Fury’s part after that whole helicarrier hacking incident – the prospect of having Steve Rogers ask if he could bang you on the table turned out to be universally appealing – and not to mention extremely profitable - SHIELD might be funded for the next quarter based entirely off the ringtone sales).

Now what exactly Nick saw when he looked at Steve is a super secret, never to be revealed to anyone (except possibly Goose who frankly was considering taking out Nicks other eye if she had to listen to his bullshit, unrequited love woes one more time), but lets just say, if Nick would eat toast cut diagonally for anyone, it would be Steve. Let us examine instead some less dramatic SHIELD members.

 

 

Clint Barton was experiencing a new level of popularity. They had called him disgusting. Nutritionally deficient. Gross (and still did, but now he could claim it was jealousy). But the way to a mans heart was through his stomach apparently (although pragmatically the right arrow could punch straight through the sternum just as easily) and Clint held all the cards, because Steve Rogers would give all the Michelin stars for one of Clint’s deep fried spaghetti sandwiches. Steve Rogers would happily do shots of maple syrup. Steve Rogers thought grease and salt was a sign of quality, and that made Clint a class act all the way! 

Now Clint was usually the invisible man, don’t see me so I can shoot you in the back, assassin type of operator. Being the centre of attention… it was nice. So Clint would have this one thing.

Brock Rumlow was not a nice man. You did not get to be a special services officer of his calibre without having a certain talent. And a certain type of skills. And a certain muscle mass and a hella amount of training. Yeah. Basically Rumlow was very, very good at beating people up. And shooting people. And not mentioning that he was actually also a Hydra agent on the side. _Shh._

Oh. And you know who else was really good at pounding on people?   _Steve Fucking Rogers_.  Oh sure he was all ideals and patriotism and hot sauce wrapped in an American flag, but in Rumlow's (granted, pretty messed up) mind there was nothing hotter that the sound of Caps fist crunching face. (Unless you counted the noise Steve had made that one time when Thor had gone to perform a high-speed, emergency airlift. The resulting wedgie had left Cap limping for 2 days, and that was kinda hot to Rumlow too).

Yeah Rumlow could watch Rogers inflict blunt force trauma all day long.

 

Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD, saw a sweet, precious baby. This probably had something to do with meeting Steve pre-serum and having rather exceptional tunnel vision since Steve had been full of the… er… aggressive energy pre-serum (you know, the kind that resulted in Steve and strangers beating on each other in back alley’s).

Post serum Steve was also sweet and precious. And needed to be rubbed all over with baby oil. Peggy had also thought that the best thing for Steve had been to rescue him from the sexually aggressive chorus girls Captain America was touring with. Regrettably, releasing Captain America into a battalion of sexually frustrated, allied soldiers had not been her greatest moment (and yet probably accelerated sexual identity in America by decades).

 

 

Agent Coulson was hailed a prophet. Captain America was a legend at SHIELD, but largely forgotten with time (except by those veterans and old folks who remembered Pepperidge farm). It was Coulson that had horded memorabilia that made him a messiah amongst SHIELD agents when Captain America had been recovered from the ice (including a pair of boxer shorts that Coulson claimed Steve Rogers had been wearing while exposed to the vita-rays, that everybody was curious about but nobody dared ask about).

Fury had felt that the fact that Coulson was obsessed with Steve even having never met him in person was perhaps important (oh sure, appreciative of, but true obsession required some level of exposure). Until he found out about the boxer shorts. That’s when Fury started the gas mask trials.

 

 

Natasha did not _just_  see Steve as a pair of shapely ankles thankyou very much. There was more to Steve than that. There was also his perfectly proportioned arches. That absolutely sacraligious Achilles tendon. Was it a sin to want to suck those toes? ‘Cos if it was Nat was going to hell…

But Steve… Steve trusted her. Not just said the words, Steve regularly put his life on the line for her. And Steve… Steve made Nat a better person because he was disappointed when Natasha made choices that compromised herself – not just physically but morally. Without a doubt, Steve would blame himself if any of their crew died and that made Natasha care when she risked herself. Because it had been years since she had cared enough about her own safety, but she could and would care for Steve’s sake.

_And that goddamn sexy calcaneous._

 

 

 

Just to make it fair, here are Steve’s highly evolved impressions of said SHIELD agents.

 

Fury – Grumpy cat?

Peggy Carter – Girl! Flee! **peanut craving**

Rumlow – Bully?

Coulson - * **Bucky’s voice*** _No Steve! Not Safe!_

Natasha – Girl? Flee?

 

 


	69. *wink wink*

After returning Lucky to the tower Pepper had not got her shoes. This was largely due to a rather sulky Tony over a very physically appreciative Captain Rogers. There had been kisses (granted cheek only). And a shoulder to side-hug that had required Pepper to fan herself for 16 minutes straight before she could speak again (Tony had suggested it was secret women’s business and Steve had blushed furiously and been quiet and attentive until she came around).

 

And yes Tony would pay for that little inappropriate barb later.

 

But back to the matter at hand, Pepper was a business woman, and when it came to business, there was always a transaction involved, the best transactions involved both parties getting what they wanted. Tonight Steve had got Lucky, and Pepper too, had ‘got lucky’.

 

Steve liked the dog. Therefore Pepper just had to get Lucky to like her.

 

Now Pepper had seen a movie with something like this once, and acquired a plastic baggy full of crispy bacon to bribe Lucky into liking her. It wasn’t working quite the way she expected. The first time she had approached Lucky (and obviously the dog was still resentful about the whole capture thing) he had actively growled at her until she backed off.

 

The second time she had got close enough for the dog just raised a curious eyebrow at her before huffing and walking away.

 

The third time, Lucky ate the proffered bacon (Pepper later found it barfed into her handbag). Pepper was nothing if not persistent.

 

Frankly, one could assume it was not going to work. Unless one took into account the side effect of carrying bacon bits in your pocket. Because it turned out plastic baggies were no match for super soldier senses. Now while each of the Avengers in their own way had attempted to tempt Steve with food, none of them had thought to wrap it up first. Bucky might have specifically told Steve you couldn’t eat food off of people (except Bucky himself of course) but he hadn’t specifically mentioned food stored in Ziploc bags. This might be explained by the fact that they didn’t exist prior to 1968.

 

If Bucky hadn’t forbidden it, then it must be okay! (Please note, this belief predated the super soldier serum and may be the result of an over zealous belief in the omnipotence of James Buchannan Barnes, possibly the natural conclusion of some rather shady hypnopedia trials conducted by a nine year old James Buchannan Barnes on the unsuspecting Steven Rogers. Bucky was nothing if not versatile.).

 

Pepper didn’t make the connection straight away. This was largely due to the fact that Steve was always attentive and agreeable when she visited the tower. However one morning he had accompanied Tony to a board meeting (a business tactic on Tony’s part to get a new project approved). Nobody asked why Steve was there. You didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth (but if you did you might notice those goddamn perfect teeth).

 

Tony had of course explained this to Steve as ‘helping’ since Tony had lost his laser pointer and needed Steve to point things out on the big screen. A particularly effective tactic that exposed Steve’s midriff when he had to stretch to the upper section. And he had to. Often. In fact now that Pepper thought about it almost all the slides had been nonsense except for the Stark logo at either the top left or right corners.

 

“Well that went well.” Suggested Tony ushering out the last of the besotted board members.

 

“Indeed.” Replied Pepper, fanning herself with a copy of the operational plan the board had signed off on without even reading. Pepper might believe on some level having Steve in the meeting was tantamount to drugging the board members into submission, but who cared? Steve had Venusian dimples and it was one thing to see them outlined through the suit and quite another altogether to see them exposed.

 

“Let’s go Steve.” Instructed Tony.

 

“I…” Steve was visibly torn. Tony said go but there was something keeping him. He glanced at a confused Pepper expectantly.

 

“I have cookies in the workshop. Let’s go Steve!” Cookies?!? Steve nodded and followed. Not without a glance back though.


	70. Chapter 70

“It’s your bed right?” Suggested Sam. Attempting the conversations. Standard tactic in hostage situations, make them see you as a person…

 

The Winter Soldier grunted. Seeing the vicinity surrounded by SHIELD agents he had opted to return to the café, but not alone, he had grabbed a fleeing Sam Wilson to organise that raincheck first. “What?”

 

“Your bed, it’s too soft. Like… uh… lying on a marshmallow. Felt like you’re going to sink right into the floor.” Sam didn’t know why he went this particular angle, just something about the guy reminded him of Steve.

 

Trying to look casual while sipping a decidedly out of season grande gingerbread coffee frappuccino (but hey you didn’t refuse the order of the guy with a machete taped to his thigh, regardless of the time of year). Incidentally the imperfect version of the super soldier serum used on James Barnes had a similar effect on his metabolism as the Steve Rogers version, the oh-so-enviable eat all you want, never-get-fat, and not so enviable always hangry.

 

“Maybe.” Answered the Winter Soldier. Because he might be sleeping on a mattress he found in a dumpster, in a condemned building but it was still softer than the floor of his cell at Hydra. He remembered marshmallows and a skinny kid puking them all over his shoes. Why did that make him feel uncomfortably warm in a sexy way?

 

“Uh… so… you know I’m not actually an avenger right? More like a temp. No super powers here, just good ol’ Sam. No dodging bullets or super healing. Very fragile.” Because it wasn’t like Tony had the monopoly on nervous chatter. “Sweet tooth, hu?” Commented Sam as the Winter Soldier dumped another 13 sachets of sugar into his frappe. Because, wow. That was Steve levels of sugar…. Did this dude even have kidneys?

 

 ****

 

“Another!” Barked Thor, who had been grossly mislead as to the taste and effectiveness of this particular variety of Asgardian liquor.

 

“Thor, alcohol doesn’t work that well on me, I don’t want to waste your….” Thor shushed Steve down with soothing tones, topping up his glass. Loki, with his nose firmly stuffed in Steve’s crotch snuffled a laugh to himself. Thor would never get Captain Rogers drunk with that stuff. Loki knew this to be true because he had personally enjoyed the contents of that particular bottle last solstice before refilling, sealing and returning it to Odin’s personal stash.   _God of Mischief!_

 

“Steven. This is not your puny, midguardian ale.” Explained Thor. “This is Asguardian liquer! Aged in some barrel or something for many years.” Thor really couldn’t remember the details. “Many years. Probably in a vaginesque, sacred cave somewhere. Or something.” By this we must assume viking god whiskey was (normally) very potent indeed.

 

“It looks like pee.” Frowned Steve. Smelled like pee too (which was to be expected because that’s exactly what it was). Then he felt terrible of course because Thor was so proud of this and Steve had just… maybe it was a cultural Asguardian drink and heavens knew Steve had drunk worse… (but then U couldn’t have possibly known that sump oil wasn’t suitable for humans when he’d given Tony that smoothie, and waste not, want not) He eyed it warily. “Are you sure its safe?”

 

“Come Steven! It is quite safe.” Encouraged Thor, who as we recall had tested for potential midguardian toxicity on Clint. He snaked an arm around Steve’s waist and whispered “We must celebrate banishing the soil turning foe and the destruction of its metal beast!”

 

“I’m game.” Suggested Tony worming between Thor and Steve and snatching up Steve’s glass.

 

“Nay young Tony. It is not suitable for pathetic, weak mortals like yourself.”

 

“Tony No! You really don’t want to drink that.” Warned Steve.

 

“Tony Yes!” Said Tony, throwing back the shot. Now the effects of ice giant pee on puny mortals is not fully documented, but apparently it is not dissimilar to consuming human pee. “Salty.A bit bitter.” Muttered Tony disappointed at the lack of… anything happening. He sniffed the glass thoughtfully. “Do I smell asparagus?”


	71. Chapter 71

Tony glared across the table at Natasha who was knocking back shots of vodka for breakfast. This was blatantly unfair. Tony was not allowed to drink hard liquor before midday.

 

The sly fox had convinced Steve that vodka was a Russian cure-all and she only partook for medicinal value and cultural identity. This made perfect sense to Steve. In the 40’s the medicinal uses of alcohol were fairly common knowledge and the Russian immigrants that had lived down the street in Brooklyn had stilled their own vodka, so Steve knew a bit about it - it was made from potatoes and potatoes were a vegetable, therefore it was kinda like drinking vegetable juice.

 

Now while alcohol had limited effectiveness on super-soldier Steve (Asguardian alcohol not-withstanding, Thor’s attempts had been put on hold after Tony blew chunks across the lounge, suggesting ice giant pee was not all that compatible with humans physiology - but we digress), pre-serum Steve was another matter.

 

Steve’s first brush with insobriety had occurred in late 1936. Not having the strongest immune system he’d managed to come down with something. Probably pneumonia again. Money was tight so he didn’t feel it was worth the cost of seeing a doctor so he decided to just medicate himself with some stuff left over from his ma’s illness. Now this is definitely not a recommended practice. Especially given Sarah not only had a good 20-30 pounds on Steve but had also been in the late stages of TB. Of course Steve did not elect to take the child’s dose as would befit his body size _because I’m an adult Bucky._

And if Steve came back to his senses 3 hours after with no memory and smelling of Vapo-rub, than that was probably for the best. And Bucky swore he was just attempting expired air resuscitation because he thought Steve might have stopped breathing for a second there. Plausible. It was nothing like that time he’d been sick when he woke up with Bucky’s tongue down his throat because he’d read in a book that’s how birds fed their babies and Steve hadn’t been eating enough lately. Bucky was just really attentive like that. So thoughtful. Heck the number of times he’d woken up in the middle of the night with Bucky stripping off his clothes to give him a sponge bath was just crazy.

 

_But Bucky… I’m not even sick…_

_No Steve. You definitely have a fever. Definitely hot._

_Serious Buck! Feel my forehead!_

_Hush Steve. I know what I’m doing._

It was several months later before Bucky bought a bottle of Ballantine’s which they’d split between them at Coney Island (Bucky had to buy it on account of the vendor refusing to believe Steve was 18).

 

It had been enough alcohol to convince Steve to ride the Cyclone and that had not ended well. Not well for Steve. Bucky had quite enjoyed having to carry Steve home cuddled up on his back. It was both endearing and nostalgic to listen to Steve’s muttered apologies between the bouts of dry retching. And if Bucky had taken a few wrong turns on the way home it was so not related to Steve’s pelvis pressing into his spine (which later he would be disappointed to find out was actually just the empty beer bottle from earlier that Steve had kept as a souvenir) and Steve wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway.

 

Regardless of the disappointment, Bucky came to some rather interesting (yet ethically questionable) conclusions.

 

  1. Drunken Steve was amenable to ‘accidental’ groping.
  2. The smell of vomit was surprisingly not as off-putting as previously presumed.
  3. Sober Steve remembered nothing.
  4. Steve must _never_   get drunk around anyone. _Except Bucky_



 

This meant super-soldier Steve had very little experience with alcohol aside from the medicinal uses.

_What? Bucky?_

_Shhh Steve._

_What are you doing here?_

_I’m just applying some rubbing alcohol to your injured shoulder Steve. It’ll bring the swelling down._

_Its 3am!_

_Hush Steve. You’ll wake the neighbours._

Now Steve was a very well mannered boy, and it _would_  be considered quite rude to wake the neighbours up at 3am just because you woke up with someone in a dark room giving you a not-unpleasant massage for your own benefit. It didn’t occur to Steve to wonder  _how_   Bucky had gotten into his room.  _Because Steve._

 

Steve was also rather put out by the fact that Bucky hardly ever had injuries and never got sick. The only way he’d ever been able to reciprocate had been when Bucky got a paper cut and insisted Steve kiss it better (Steve had done it once when they were kids and it had sort of become a tradition). Bucky got a lot of paper cuts. In weird places.

 

_Buck? Why do you have a telephone directory in your pants?_

_Hush Steve. I know what I’m doing._

Tony glowered at Natasha over his cornflakes, who merely raised an eyebrow at him in response. Coulson was teaching Steve Tai Chi (Steve in yoga pants, om nom nom), Bruce practiced Bowen therapy on Steve and got him to drink his funky herbal teas (the caffeine free kind that were the coffee anti-christ). Clint had cashed in on Steve’s apparent deference to homeopathy and got Steve to massage Dencorub into his shoulders after particularly gruelling missions. Even Thor had managed to convince Steve that it was a cultural practice to honour certain gods by going without a shirt on Thursdays (something that a blushing Steve had only agreed to do around the tower when they didn’t have visitors). Tony needed in.

 

Now Tony was a learned man, so the first thing he did was research and establish what would appear plausible to Steve. This was largely due to the fact that Steve had already rejected the concept that it was family tradition for Stark men to have a tumbler of bourbon for breakfast (Steve did have to think about it first though, by proxy of having seen Howard with a tumbler of bourbon in his hand on many occasions, several of them prior to breakfast).

 

Regrettable as it was, Tony also had to reject his research plan because even while Vapo-rub was available in the 1930’s and Tony was prepared to affect a cough, it turned out that the scrotum was indeed both highly permeable, highly innervated and highly accessible when applying Vapo-rub and getting an incidental itch. Not a good combination. In fact certain experienced persons might specifically describe it as a ‘mother fu*king son of a b*tch HammerTech sh*t burning f*ck’ sensation. Tony had thusly developed a rather justified aversion to the stuff.


	72. Chapter 72

 

“Steve. We need to talk.”

 

Uh oh. This was definitely an intervention. Steve knew because he had been intervened on many, many times. Things like;

 

“Stevie. You been pickin’ fights again?” _He started it Buck…_

 

“Steve? Did you drink my shampoo?” _It smelt like coconut Nat…_

 

“Steven, are you sure this is a sport befitting Earth’s mightiest heroes?” _Dumpster diving is an art, Thor._

 

“Steve. We need to talk about the crocodile in your ensuite.” _Crocodiles are made from meat, Bruce. Meat!_

 

and just earlier today;

 

“Captain Rogers. Did you or did you not agree to a goddamn date with the Winter Soldier?” _It was just coffee! …(although that did explain the flowers and goodbye kiss)._

 

“Really?” Laughed Steve nervously, eyeing off potential exits. It wasn’t that big of a drop to the party deck… “About what exactly?” Because there was no reason to expose all your secrets at once.

 

“Oh I don’t know. How about the super villain, megalomaniac you’ve been keeping in the tower?”

 

“Which one?”

 

“The one in your bedroom!” Clarified Tony. Steve let out a relieved breath that he’d been holding. “Wait. What? How many are there Steve?”

 

“Oh. MODOK?” Obfuscated Steve with a vague shake of his hand. MODOK had been the reason Steve had needed to ask Shuri and T’Challa to leave. “George isn’t that bad… he’s just… misunderstood.”

 

“He tried to blow up the Baxter building! People nearly died Steve!”

 

“He’s changed Tony.” And it was true. MODOK had even changed his name from Mental Organism Designed Only for Killing to Mental Organism Designed Only for Kissing (a not-so-subtle hint to Steve that had not borne fruit). “That was all AIM! George doesn’t work for them anymore.”

 

“Steve. Tell me you aren’t on a first name basis with MODOK?” Begged Tony. Steve was not very good at lying so opted to stay silent.

 

“He doesn’t eat much.” Steve finally volunteered. That made sense to Tony since MODOK didn’t really have much of a body to speak of.

 

“Do you realise you put us all at risk Steve? What if he did something while you were out?” (on your date with the Winter Soldier Tony didn’t add but this may be the crux of his current agitation). “I was minding my own business and I turn around and there’s MODOK building a frigging nuclear bomb!”

 

”He told me it was a microwave oven!” Gasped Steve, who had been quite taken with the idea of having his own microwave oven in his room. “Wait, what were you doing in my room Tony?”

 

How to say… installing new surveillance since the Wakanda wunderkind had been oh so systematic in removing all of JARVIS’s 73 sensors (even managing to find the 6 cameras in the shower). Tony had even foregone his usual Steve stalk er... ‘midtown patrol’, to slip into Steve’s room the moment he left the tower that morning, arms laden with new, higher resolution (silver lining) surveillance cameras. Only instead of finding an empty room, he had instead been presented with a naked, lounging MODOK. And ewww. Tony hadn’t been that mentally scarred since he came back from a business meeting to find goat Tony missing and Steve cooking a huge pot of curry in the kitchen (it had of course been a misunderstanding, goat Tony was just at the vet (but that’s what happened when you head butted goat Bruce too many times)– regardless Tony had immediately arranged for goat Tony and goat Steve to be put in an intensive breeding program together (a curious arrangement as the reproductive biologist in charge had tried to convince Tony it wouldn’t work as they were both males, but Tony wasn’t a billionaire for nothing, R&D loved a challenge. 

 

“I… uh… I heard a noise. That’s not important. Anyway, where did you find that much Uranium-235? No wait, I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. Bruce is gonna kill you.” 

 

“I was going to return it.” Muttered Steve scuffing at the carpet a bit with one shoe.

 

“Before or after MODOK used it to blow up the tower?” Although Tony couldn’t help but also blame Bruce for leaving fissionable material out where anyone could pick it up… what if it had been Clint instead of Steve…? Actually short of sticking it on the end of an arrow and shooting it into the full size arc reactor Clint probably couldn’t do worse than giving it to MODOK. Not with short notice anyway. Best not to challenge him with the idea. “No Steve! No radioactive isotopes in your room!” Steve hung his head in shame. And awww... he was pouting... maybe if the half life was 60 days or less... no! Resist Stark! "Go straight to your room and reflect on this! And shower!" 


	73. Chapter 73

Tony didn’t really eat breakfast BC (before Cap). Brunch? Yeah okay, but breakfast was for people with… you know… day jobs and responsibilities. But if pushing cornflakes around a bowl for 30 minutes was the cost to view shirtless Steve on a Thursday morning then Tony was prepared to pay it. He plucked a single, less soggy cornflake out of the bowl and crunched it loudly to prove his point.

 

Not that Steve was likely to notice Tony didn’t really eat the cereal. It was a decoy so Steve wouldn’t need to cook for him. Kudos to Thor who was eagerly banging his cutlery on the table in anticipation. Steve was far to absorbed in a waffle iron of questionable origin he had ‘found’ recently.

 

Steve turned at the crunching sound and gave Tony a thumbs up and encouraging nod. Oh. Maybe he had noticed. That was kind of… nice. Tony appreciatively took another sip of his diabetes.

 

When the waffle iron had appeared, so had a battered old stove kettle and Steve took great delight in presenting Tony with a cup of his socially acceptable breakfast beverage of choice each morning. Tony wasn’t convinced it was actually coffee. No beans in sight. It was made from brown powder that came in a tin that you just mixed in hot water. Crazy.

 

It contained caffeine at least which helped take the edge off his caffeine withdrawal each morning (at least until he could crawl down to the workshop and get some espresso). It also gave him interesting insight into Steve’s mood.

 

Tony drank his coffee strong and black. No sugar (that way there was more room for coffee). Today’s coffee was strong and black, with only 4 or so sugars and if it had been made with real coffee would have been acceptable. This usually meant Tony was in trouble (probably just the hangover of kicking MODOK out yesterday).

 

Steve liked sugar. Like, like-liked. This was probably a combination of the super soldier serum sending his calorific needs into overdrive, and refined sugar being in short supply when he grew up. Steve was also a good guy, so he liked to share.

**Stark Sweetness Scale (SSS) 400-600 mL**

 

1-3 Sugars - being punished, deny everything

4-6 Sugars – Steve unhappy, proceed with caution

6-9 Sugars – normal day, act casual

10-12 Sugars – being rewarded, claim ownership

13+ Sugars (theoretical only) – getting laid?

 

Point being, if one day Tony actually got given a sugar-free coffee from Steve, he would know the divorce was imminent.

 

Clearly Steve had been impressed with the cornflake because when he came and dumped a slightly charred waffle on Thor’s plate he also poured a shot of syrup into Tony’s mug.

 

“Agent Coulson, can I make you a waffle?” Asked Steve, causing Tony to WTF because he hadn’t even noticed Agent Agent in the room. Coulson was often there, just watching Steve without anyone noticing. Well mostly not noticing… sometimes the loud breathing at night was a bit awkward.

 

“Already ate, thanks Steve.” Remarked Coulson who reflexively broke out in a sweat every time Steve offered to cook since the whole meatloaf thing.

 

Coulson was aware that not many people considered him a member of the Avengers. Even Steve was under the impression Coulson was some kind of SHIELD accountant – which did explain why he kept trying to give Coulson tax receipts (Phil was fine with this as long as Cap signed them first). Being unremarkable might be an asset to a spy, however it also meant Steve would probably never think of him  _that_  way.

 

Besides his actual SHIELD job (which seemed to be mostly damage control these days), Coulson actually had a very important, self-imposed mission. He had seen some weird-ass shit playing Scully to Fury’s Mulder, and the Avengers were a team built to deal with the weirdest shit of all. Every time they encountered another megalomaniac or evil alien just increased the probability that  _it_   would happen next.

 

One day, Steve Rogers would get hit with sex pollen and Phil Coulson would be there to do his patriotic duty.

 

Tony shuddered a bit at the disturbing expression that flashed over Agent Agents face for a moment there, before turning back to his tablet.

 

“Whatcha looking at Tony?” Inquired Steve from the counter where he was refilling the waffle iron.

“Nothing much.” Remarked Tony noncommittally. Tony knew he tended, at times, to have little in the way of a brain-to-mouth filter, especially in the mornings and, you know…days ending in y.

 

That and Steve was a mega-gossip.

 

“Whatcha drawing Tony?” Steve had asked hopefully one morning while Tony was scribbling away on his tablet at the breakfast table. It was a Thursday and Tony had come down with sudden inspiration.

 

“I’m designing underwear for seniors.” Answered Tony. Which was exactly what he had been doing. Exactly. Just for a specific centarian and not seniors in general

 

“Huh.” Said Steve and went back to licking pancake syrup off his fingers (which distracted Tony all over again).

 

Two days later Pepper had to hold a press conference to deal with the rumours that Stark Industries would be transitioning from green energy technologies to undergarments. Which was offensive. Tony designed lingerie couture, not ‘undergarments’. ‘Undergarments’ were something you purchased at Walmart in 3 packs. Luckily there had been no fallout on Stark share prices (since the average shareholder tended to be an octogenarian themselves) but Pepper did make him draft some functional (aka not sexy) underwear for the elderly. Somehow the samples ended up with Tony’s face embroidered on them that made them even more marketable.

 

And if #TonyStark #eatmyfarts was currently trending.. well…


End file.
